Floral Poetry. 
59 
THE WINTER NOSEGAY. 
\ OKHAT Nature, alas ! has denied 
* ^ To the delicate growth of our isle, 
Art has in a measure supplied, 
And Winter is decked with a smile. 
See, Mary, what beauties I bring 
From the shelter of that sunny shed, 
Where the flowers have the charms of the Spring, 
Though abroad they are frozen and dead. 
’Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, 
Where Flora is still in her prime, 
A fortress to which she retreats 
From the cruel assaults of the clime. 
While earth wears a mantle of snow, 
These pinks are as fresh and as gay 
As the fairest and sweetest that blow 
On the beautiful bosom of May. 
See how they have safely survived 
The powers of a sky so severe; 
Such Mary’s true love, that has lived 
Through many a turbulent year. 
The charms of the late-blowing Rose 
Seem graced with a livelier hue, 
And the winter of sorrow best shows 
The truth of a friend such as you. 
Cozvper. 
