THE FLOWER SPIRIT. 
ANON. 
I am the spirit that dwells in the flower ; 
Mine is the exquisite music that flies. 
When silence and moonlight reign over each 
bower, 
That blooms in the glory of tropical skies. 
I woo the bird with his melody glowing 
To leap in the sunshine, and warble its strain, 
And mine is the odor, in turn, that bestowing. 
The songster is paid for his music again. 
There dwells no sorrow where I am abiding ; 
Care is a stranger, and troubles us not; 
And the winds, as they pass, when too hastily 
riding, 
I woo, and they tenderly glide o’er the spot. 
They pause, and we glow in their rugged em¬ 
braces, 
They drink our warm breath, rich with 
odour and song, 
Then hurry away to their desolate places, 
And look for us hourly, and think of us long. 
