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DIAL OF FLOWERS. 
And those small bells so lightly rayed 
With young Aurora’s rosy hue. 
Are to the noontide Sun displayed, 
But shut their plaits against the dew. 
On upland slopes the shepherds mark 
The hour, when, as the dial true, 
Cichorium to the towering Lark 
Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue. 
And thou, “ Wee crimson tipped flower,” 
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round 
Thy bosom, at the closing hour. 
When nightdrops bathe the turfy ground. 
Unlike Silene, who declines 
The garish noontide’s blazing light ; 
But when the evening crescent shines, 
Gives all her sweetness to the nisrht. 
Thus in each flower and simple bell, 
That in our path betrodden lie, 
Are sweet remembrancers who tell 
How fast their winged moments fly. 
