the enchanted plants. 
221 
il Why still deem Nature’s laws perverse, 
Who make her choicest gifts a curse ? 
Feeling, whose shrine thy tears profane, 
Is not the eternal nurse of pain. 
(i When rain and tempest rule the hours, 
How sympathize the plants and flowers ? 
The sun once more revives the plain, 
They laugh with hope and joy again. 
“ Mark pleasure’s fascinating wiles, 
And beauty’s heart-illumined smiles ; 
The eye’s quick glancing rapture tells, 
Unquestioned, where the angel dwells. 
“ Where points the moon-beam, dost thou see, 
Near yon gray stone, a lofty tree ? 
The Cypress, mourner of the grove, 
Placed by the hand of widowed love ? 
u His grief with dignity he bears, 
A dark and settled sorrow wears ; 
Affects no attitudes of wo, 
And scorns one trivial tear should flow. 
19 * 
