THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
75 
And sparkling wit with graver sense unites, 
And fills thine eye with many changing lights. 
Oh ! beautiful indeed, a mind like thine ! 
And well might angels bow at such a shrine. 
But man, weak man, oft passes idly by, 
To worship beauty that attracts the eye; 
While mental grace, a charm that ne’er can fade, 
Flies from the crowd, and dwells amid the shade. 
COWSLIP.* 
(Winning Grace.) 
She grew in love. Around her infant home 
Life hung its summer hues, and very fair 
Was this wild earth to her. She learned to roam 
In artless radiance where the woodland air 
Showered trembling sweetness on the glancing streams, 
And stole its hue from sunset’s golden beams. 
She twined the orchis in her hazel hair, 
And stole the violets from the brook-side dell: 
The wilding race was her peculiar care; 
Her dearest music was the foxglove’s bell, 
When the wild bee with his transparent wings 
Stirs the sweet air, and makes believe he sings. 
* A very bright, beautiful yellow flower. 
