floba’s- dial. 109 
August 12. 
VINE. — Intoxication. 
Go, where he dwells when revelry is o’er j — 
How on its rusty hinges creaks the door; — 
A single brand is mouldering on the hearth; 
The children show no bliss, no wonted mirth; 
Their mouths are hungry, and their limbs are bare; 
The stupid father nods, drunk in his broken chair. 
T. C. Upham. 
August 13. 
VETCH. — Shyness. 
The stillest stream descries the greatest deepe; 
The clearest sky is subject to a shower; 
Conceit’s iliost sweet, when as it seems to sleepe ; 
And fairest days do in the morning lower: 
The silent groves sweet nymphs they cannot miss, 
And Love loves most, where love most secret is. 
The rarest jewels hidden virtue yield, 
The sweet of traffique is a secret gaine; 
The year once old doth show a barren field, 
And plants seem dead, and yet they spring again; 
Cupid is blinde,—the reason why, is this: 
Love loveth most, when love most secret is. Anon. 
