THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
91 
Such haughty airs become thee not. For me, 
I better love a modest mien and look 
Than all the gaudy tinsel wealth can buy, 
Or vanity display. Put by thy pride, 
And by a holy life earn nobler praise 
Than such as pomp and idle show can win. 
PRIMROSE, EVENING* 
(Inconstancy.) 
Hast forgotten the days, love, the long-vanished days, 
When our spirits communed through the bird and the 
flower; 
When the stars linked our thoughts by their glittering 
rays, 
In a chain that had more than electrical power ? 
Those days were the violet blossoms of love— 
Young flowers that have faded and shrunk from thy 
view; 
But though withered, forgotten, to thee they may 
prove, 
They are pressed to one heart ever faithful and 
true. 
* This plant is from one to two feet high. Flowers of various colours, 
and open suddenly. 
