DAHLIA. 
157 
Its coarse foliage, gaudy flowers, and want of per¬ 
fume seem to have prevented its becoming a favorite 
with our poets. Mrs. Sigourney just alludes to it as a 
florist’s flower, in her “Farewell : ” 
I have no stately dahlias, nor greenhouse flowers to weep, 
But I passed the rich man’s garden, and the mourning there was 
deep, 
For the crownless queens all drooping hung amid the wasted sod, 
Like Boadicea, bent with shame beneath the Homan rod,” 
THE DAHLIA. 
MAKTIN. 
Though severed from its native clime, 
Where skies are ever bright and clear. 
And nature’s face is all sublime. 
And beauty clothes the fragrant air. 
The Dahlia will each glory wear, 
With tints as bright, and leaves as green ; 
And winter, in his savage mien, 
May breathe forth storm,—yet she will bear 
With all :—and in the summer ray. 
With blossoms deck the brow of day. 
And thus the soul—if fortune cast 
Its lot to live in scenes less bright,— 
Should bloom amidst the adverse blast 
Nor suffer sorrow’s clouds to blight 
Its outward beauty—inward light. 
Thus should she live and flourish still, 
Though misery’s frost might strive to kill 
The germ of hope within her quite :— 
Thus should she hold each beauty fast. 
And bud and blossom to the last, 
