CONCLUDING PIECES. 
Violets, sweet tenants of the shade, 
In purple’s richest pride arrayed, 
Your errand here fulfil ; 
Go bid the artist’s simple stain 
Your lustre imitate, in vain. 
And match your Maker’s skill. 
Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth, 
Embroiderers of the carpet earth, 
That stud the velvet sod ; 
Open to spring’s refreshing air, 
In sweetest smiling bloom declare 
Your Maker, and my God. 
TO A SPRIG OF MIGNONETT1 
BARTON• 
The ling’ring perfume of thy flow’r, 
Its dying fragrance, sadly sweet, 
Though faint to that of Summer’s bower. 
It still is soothing thus to greet. 
The gusty winds, the dark’ning cloud, 
The chilly mists, and rain, and dews. 
And drifted leaves which half enshroud 
Thy beauties,—all delight my Muse. 
And boast a charm that far outvies 
The grace of summer’s proudest day, 
2 c 
