306 
CHARLOTTE SMITH. 
“ I watched her tender buds, and from her shade 
Drew each intruding weed with anxious care, 
Nor let the curling blight her leaves invade, 
Nor worm, nor noxious insect, harbor there. 
“ At length the beauty’s loveliest bloom appears, 
And Art from Fame shall win the promised boon, 
While wayward April, smiling through her tears, 
Decks her fair tresses with the wreaths of June. 
“ Then, jealous Nature, yield the palm to me, 
To me thy pride its early triumph owes; 
Though thy rude workmanship produce the tree, 
’Twas Education formed the perfect Rose.” 
