82 
PRIMROSE. 
TO THE EVENING OR TREE 
PRIMROSE. 
BARTON. 
Fair Flower, that shunns’t the glare of day. 
Yet lov’st to open, meekly bold, 
To evening’s hues of sober grey. 
Thy cup of paly gold ;— 
Be thine the offering, owing long 
To thee, and to this pensive hour. 
Of one brief tributary song, 
Though transient as thy flower. 
I love to watch at silent eve, 
Thy scatter’d blossoms lonely light. 
And have my inmost heart receive 
The influence of that sight. 
I love at such an hour to mark 
Their beauty greet the night breeze chill, 
And shine, ’mid shadows gathering dark, 
The garden’s glory still. 
For such ’tis sweet to think the while, 
When cares and griefs the breast invade. 
Is friendship’s animating smile 
In sorrow’s dark’ning shade. 
Thus it bursts forth like thy pale cup, 
Glist’ning amid its dewy tears, 
