WILD FLOWERS. 123 
The Flowers. 
Children of suns restored to youth, 
In purfled fields ye dwell, 
Bear’d to delight and joy—in sooth, 
Kind Nature loves ye well; 
Broider’d with light the robes ye wear, 
And liberal Flora decks ye fair, 
In gorgeous-color’d pride : 
Yet woe—Spring’s harmless infants—woe, 
Mourn, for ye wither while ye glow— 
Mourn for the soul denied! 
The skylark and the night-bird sing 
To you their hymns of love. 
And sylphs that wanton on the wing 
Embrace your blooms above; 
Woven for love’s soft pillow were 
The chalice crowns ye blushing bear, 
By the Idalian queen: 
Yet weep, soft children of the Spring, 
The feelings love alone can bring 
To you denied have been! 
