Floral Poetry. 
TO THE PASSION-FLOWER. 
F Superstition’s baneful art 
First gave thy mystic name, 
Reason, I trust, would steel my heart, 
Against its groundless claim. 
But if, in fancy’s pensive hour, 
By grateful feelings stirred, 
Her fond imaginative power 
That name at first conferred — 
Though lightly truth her flights may prize, 
By wild vagary driven, 
For once their blameless exercise 
May surely be forgiven. 
We roam the seas—give new-found isles 
Some king’s or conqueror’s name : 
We rear on earth triumphant piles 
As meeds of earthly fame : — 
We soar to heaven; and to outlive 
Our life’s contracted span, 
Unto the glorious stars we give 
The names of mortal man : 
Then may not one poor floweret’s bloom 
The holier memory share 
Of Him who, to avert our doom, 
Vouchsafed our sins to bear? 
