m 
Floral Poetry. 
if 
Knowing the dawn drew nigh 
Of an eternal, though a sunless day, 
Whose glorious flowers must bloom immortally, 
Nor fear decay ! 
Bernard Barton. • 
THE NIGHTSHADE. 
mREAD aside from my starry bloom ! 
A I am the nurse who feeds the tomb 
(The tomb, my child), 
With dainties piled, 
Until it grows strong as a tempest wild. 
Trample not on a virgin flower ! 
I am the maid of the midnight hour; 
I bear sweet sleep 
To those who weep, 
And lie on their eyelids dark and deep. 
Tread not thou on my snaky eyes ! 
I am the worm that the weary prize, 
The Nile’s soft asp, 
That they strive to grasp, 
And one that a queen has loved to clasp ! 
Pity me ! I am she whom man 
Hath hated since ever the world began ; 
I soothe his brain, 
In the night of pain, 
But at morning he waketh—and all is in vain. 
Barry Cornwall. 
U 
CM 
