208 
THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 
No solitude exists for me, 
Since every flower and shrub and tree, 
Society affords. 
FABLE I. 
GRUMBLING. 
One day, when winter ruled the skies, 
I, shivering by the flame, 
Heard a strange hurly-burly rise, 
And wondered whence it came. 
Spite of the season’s biting gales, 
I traced the uncommon sound, 
And found four plants, in snowy veils, 
Muttering on gifted ground. 
A Crocus bright peeped forth alone. 
The rest lay snug concealed. 
Till each, with discontented tone, 
Her name and woes revealed. 
