Floral Poetry. 
57 
She sighed : she smiled : and to the flowers 
Pointing, the lovely moralist said— 
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, 
See yonder, what a change is made. 
Ah me ! the blooming pride of May, 
And that of beauty, are but one : 
At morn both flourish bright and gay; 
Both fade at evening, pale and gone. 
At dawn poor Stella danced and sung, 
The amorous youth around her bowed; 
At night her fatal knell was rung ; 
I saw, and kissed her in her shroud. 
Such as she is, who died to-day, 
Such I, alas ! may be to-morrow; 
Go, Damon, bid the Muse display 
The justice of thy Chloe’s sorrow. 
Prior. 
SAINT VALENTINE AND SPRING FLOWERS. 
S AINT VALENTINE kindles the Crocus, 
Saint Valentine wakens the birds ; 
I would that his power could wake us 
In tender and musical words! 
So, fairest and sweetest, your pardon 
(If no better welcome) I pray!— 
There’s spring-time in grove and in garden; 
Perchance it may breathe in my lay. 
H 
