822 
ANONYMOUS. 
Will you be that memorial dear 
Of those who are so far away, 
Whose absence wakes the frequent tear, 
Whose presence turns the night to day 1 
Or will you be the passion-flower, 
That spreads its hallowed radiance round • 
That to a temple turns the bower, 
And marks the place for holy ground 1 
Carnation ! robed in virgin white, 
Seems like an angel on the earth, 
■Sc pure, so spotless, and so bright, 
As though it claimed a heavenly birth ; 
Compare it with more mortal sights, 
It blooms a lady of degree, 
Such as were served by gallant knights 
In the fair fields of chivalry. 
The crimson stock, of ten weeks' prido ; 
Ten weeks ! it charms us all the year; 
Or primal rose, when eventide 
Bids its pale blossoms reappear; 
Or June’s own rose—that sovereign flower; 
Oh, that decides the floral strife; 
What nymph that loves not royal power— 
That would not be a queen for life ? 
