; 
)VaLLFLOWEI^—J' lDeLITY IN 
y^DVEI^SITY. 
HE wall-flower--the wall-flower— 
How beautiful it blooms ! 
t gleams above the ruined tower, 
Like sunlight over tombs ; 
It sheds a halo of repose 
Around the wrecks of time : 
To beauty give the flaunting rose. 
The wall-flower is sublime. 
Flower of the solitary place ! 
Gray Ruin’s golden crown ! 
That lendest melancholy grace 
To haunts of old renown : 
Thou mantlest o’er the battlement, 
By strife or storm decayed; 
And fillest up each envious rent 
Time’s canker-tooth hath made. 
Rich is the pink, the lily gay; 
The rose is summer’s guest ; 
Bland are thy charms when these decay — 
Of flowers first, last, and best ! 
There may be gaudier in the bower 
And statelier on the tree. 
But wall-flower—loved wall-flower— 
Thou art the flower for me ! 
D. M. Moir. 
