148 flora’s dial. 
November 
MUSHROOM. — Bad news. 
I would not rudely lift the veil 
Of thy unhappy lot ; 
How can I see thy cheek grow pale. 
Thy brow with anguish fraught ? 
When told that all thou holdest most dear. 
Death’s grasp hath rudely riven, — 
Oh, may it to thy view bring near 
The lasting joys of heaven ! 
0. S. M. Ordway. 
Nocemkr 5. 
MIMOSA. — Sensitiveness. 
Faithful and fond, with sense beyond thy years, 
And natural piety that leans to heaven ; 
Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears, 
Yet patient of rebuke when justly given, — 
Obedient, — easy to be reconciled, — 
And meekly cheerful, — such art thou, dear child ! 
Mrs. Norton. 
