200 
FLORAL POESY. 
High o’er the pointal, decked with gold, 
(Emblem mysterious to behold !) 
A radiant cross its form expands ; 
Its opening arms appear to embrace 
The whole collective human race, 
Refuse of all men, in all lands. 
TO THE PASSION-FLOWER. 
BARTON. 
If superstition’s baneful art 
First gave thy mystic name, 
Reason, 1 trust, would steel my heart 
Against its groundless claim ; 
But if, in fancy’s pensive hour, 
By grateful feelings stirred, 
Her fond imaginative power 
That name at first conferred,— 
Though lightly truth her flights may prize, 
By wild vagary driven, 
For once their blameless exercise 
May surely be forgiven. 
We roam the seas—give new-found isles 
Some king’s or conqueror’s name : 
We rear on earth triumphant piles 
As meeds of earthly fame :— 
We soar to heaven ; and to outlive 
Our life’s contracted span, 
Unto the glorious stars we give 
The names of mortal man : 
