CHAPTER XX. 
TULIP— FAME. 
Not one of Flora’s brilliant race 
A form more perfect can display; 
Art could not feign more simple grace. 
Nor Nature take a line away. 
Yet, rich as morn of many hue, 
When flashing clouds through darkness strike, 
The Tulip’s petals shine in dew, 
All beautiful, yet none alike. 
Montgomery. 
