82 
T'LORAL poesy. 
With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew. 
Which she with icy coldness did repel ; 
Rebounding thence with feather speed it flew. 
Till on this lonely flower at last it fell. 
Heart’s-ease no more the wandering shepherd found ; 
No more the nymphs its snowy form possess ; 
Its white now changed to purple by Love’s wound, 
Heart’s-ease no more,—’tis Love-in-idleness. 
HEART’S-EASE. 
ANON. 
I used to love thee, simple flower, 
To love thee dearly when a boy ; 
For thou didst seem in childhood’s hour. 
The smiling type of childhood’s joy. 
But now thou only work’st my grief, 
By waking thoughts of pleasures fled. 
Give me, give me the withered leaf. 
That falls on Autumn’s bosom dead. 
For that ne’er tells of what has been. 
But warns me what I soon shall be; 
It looks not back on pleasure’s scene. 
But points unto futurity. 
I love thee not, thou simple flower, 
For thou art gay, and I am lone ; 
Thy beauty died with childhood’s hour— 
The heart s-ease from my path is gone. 
