34 
GARDENS, WREATHS, &e. 
Earth’s cultureless buds ! to my heart ye were 
dear 
Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear, 
Had scathed my existence’s bloom ; 
Once I welcome you more, in life’s passion¬ 
less stage, 
With the visions of youth to revisit my age, 
And I wish you to grow on my tomb. 
INVITATION TO FLOWERS. 
BARTON. 
Come forth, ye lovely heralds of the Spring! 
Leave at your Maker’s call your earthly 
bed, 
At his behest your grateful tribute bring 
To light and life, from darkness and the 
dead ! 
Thou, timid Snow-drop, lift thy lowly head ; 
Crocus, and Primrose, show your varied 
dye ; 
Violets, your ceaseless odours round you 
shed, 
Yourselves the while retiring from the 
eye, 
Yet loading with your sweets each breeze 
that passes by. 
