•SP 
Floral Poetry . 
*3 l 
THE JASMINE. 
’f WAS midnight—through the lattice wreathed 
A With Woodbine, many a perfume breathed 
From plants that wake when others sleep ; 
From timid Jasmine buds that keep 
Their odour to themselves all day ; 
But when the sunlight dies away, 
Let the delicious secret out 
To every breeze that roams about. 
Moore. 
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