Floral Poetry. 
*9 
The ore within the mountain mine 
Requireth none to grow, 
Nor doth it need the Lotus flower 
To make the river flow. 
The clouds might give abundant rain, 
The mighty dews might fall, 
And the herb that keepeth life in man 
Might yet have drunk them all. 
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made 
All dyed with rainbow light: 
All fashioned with supremest grace, 
Upspringing day and night. 
Springing in valleys green and low, 
And on the mountain high, 
And in the silent wilderness, 
Where no man passes by ? 
Our outward life requires them not— 
Then wherefore had they birth ? 
To minister delight to man, 
To beautify the earth; 
To comfort man, to whisper hope 
Whene’er his faith is dim ; 
For Who so careth for the flowers, 
Will much more care for him ! 
Mary Hoioitt. 
