112 
FLORAL POESY. 
Deep in her uufrequented bower, 
Sweet Philomela poured her strain ; 
The bird of eve approved her flower, 
And answered thus the anxious swain :— 
“Live unseen ! 
By moonlight shades, in valleys green, 
Lovely flower, we’ll live unseen. 
Of our pleasures deem not lightly, 
Laughing day may look more sprightly ; 
But I love the modest mien. 
Still I love the modest mien 
Of gentle evening fair, and her star-trained queen, 
“ Didst thou, shepherd, never find 
Pleasure is of pensive kind ? 
Has thy cottage never known 
That she loves to dwell alone ? 
Dost thou not at evening hour 
Feel some soft and secret power 
Gliding o’er thy yielding mind. 
Leave sweet serenity behind, 
While, all disarmed, the cares of day 
Steal through the falling gloom away ; 
Love to think thy lot was laid 
In this undistinguished shade ; 
Far from the world’s infectious view 
Thy little virtues safely blew ? 
Go, and in day’s more dangerous hour, 
Guard thy emblematic flower.” 
