e§T ~ ^ 
Floral Poetry. 83 
For it is sin of earthly things to make 
Our idols; and I never hoped to win 
Thy coveted affection ; but for me, 
Thy heart was also yearning silently! 
I was the first to speak—and words there were, 
Wild words that painted fond affection’s course ; — 
Oh 1 what indeed will erring tongues not dare, 
When conquering Feeling prompts ! Like winds that force 
From wind-harps mystic sounds, the lips declare 
Thoughts that are often followed by remorse; 
For passion hath a potency that breaks 
Each puny bulwark callous Reason makes ! 
But ours was Friendship’s purest worship—pure, 
Altho’ that worship bowed at earthly shrines ; 
Alas ! that hearts on altars insecure 
Should sacrifice their all of bliss ! There twines 
O’er mankind’s sweetest hopes corruption sure, 
To blast their beauty e’en whilst most it shines ! — 
’Tis but to teach us there are worlds above, 
Where Hope fruition finds in endless Love ! 
Anon. 
