Floral Poetry. 
5i 
Hush ! ’tis thou that dreaming art, 
Calmer is her gentle heart. 
Yes ! o’er fountain, vale, and grove, 
Leaf and flower, hath gushed her love; 
But that passion, deep and true, 
Knows not of a last adieu. 
Types of lovelier forms than. these, 
In their fragile mould she sees; 
Shadows* of yet richer things, 
Born beside immortal springs, 
Into fuller glory wrought, 
Kindled by surpassing thought. 
Therefore in the Lily’s leaf 
She can read no word of grief; 
O’er the Woodbine she can dwell, 
Murmuring not—Farewell ! farewell ! 
And her dim, yet speaking eye, 
Greets the Violet solemnly. 
Therefore, once, and yet again, 
Strew them o’er her bed of pain ; 
From her chamber take the gloom, 
With a light and flush of bloom : 
So should one depart, who goes 
Where no death can touch the Rose. 
Anonymous. 
