THE WALL-FLOWER. 
The rude stone-fence, with Wall-flowers gay, 
To me more pleasure yield 
Than all the pomp imperial domes display. 
Scott. 
The same. —Walter Scott. 
And well the lonely infant knew 
Recesses where the Wall-flower grew, 
And honey-suckle loved to crawl 
Up the low crag and ruin’d wall, 
1 deem’d such nooks the sweetest shade 
The sun in all his round survey’d ; 
And still I thought that shattered tower. 
The mightiest work of human power. 
TO THE WALL-FLOWER. 
ANON. 
I will not praise the often-flattered rose, 
Or virgin-like with blushing charms half 
seen, 
Or when in dazzling splendor like a queen, 
All her magnificence of state she shows ; 
