Floral Poetry. 
TO THE HEPATICA. 
S WEET gem of Flora’s earliest bower ! 
Uprear thy blushing head; 
Though wintry skies upon thee lower, 
And snows around are spread; 
Still let thy lovely petals glow, 
Arrayed in all their charms, 
And to distrustful mortals show, 
Life buds in death’s cold arms. 
Sweet gem ! thy blush is like the glow 
By convalescence dealt, 
That paints the cheek, and gilds the brow, 
Where sickness long had dwelt; 
Or like the radiant quickening smile, 
By kind affection given, 
That soothes the heart, despair and guile 
Had sunk and almost riven. 
Invite thy sisters of the plain, 
Each vernal fragrant sweet; 
Till with gay tribes of every stain, 
The garden smiles replete : 
And let thy lovely petals glow, 
Still clad in all their charms; 
And to distrustful mortals show 
Life buds in death’s cold arms. 
Thomas Gillrf. 
