56 PLOEA’S DIAL. 
ftprii 15. 
CHINA ASTER.— True yet. 
No more shall flowers the meads adorn; 
Nor sweetness deck the rosy thorn; 
Nor swelling buds proclaim the spring; 
Nor parching heats the dog-star bring; 
Nor laughing lilies paint the grove, 
When I shall you, dear, cease to love. 
Smollett. 
ftpril 16. 
CROCUS BLOSSOM. — Youthful gladness. 
You ’re glad! 
Because your little tiny nose, 
Turns up so pert and funny; 
Because I know you choose your beaux, 
More for their mirth than money j 
Because your eyes are deep and blue, — 
Your fingers long and rosy; 
Because a little maid like you 
Would make one’s home so cozy; 
Because, I think, (I’m just so weak,) 
That some of these fine morrows, 
You ’ll listen while you hear me speak 
My story , and my sorrows! Anon. 
——mm 
