Floral Poetry. 169 
From luxury we turn aside, 
From wealth and ostentatious pride, 
With many an emblematic thorn, 
Thy humbler mien well pleased to meet; 
Like competence in blest retreat, 
Thy smiles the Spring adorn. 
What though thou boast no splendid hue 
Of Flora’s prouder race? 
To me more fair art thou to view, 
In all thy simple grace : 
Thine innocence and beauty meek, 
More like my Celestina’s cheek, 
Where all the modest virtues play; 
Expression beaming from her eye, 
In cherub smiles of chastity, 
With mild and tempered ray. 
Yet treasures lurk within thy lips, 
To glad the spoiler bee, 
Who not with idle errand sips, 
Or wanton vagrancy. 
Ah ! blest is he who temperance tries, 
Simplicity above disguise, 
And shuns the falser gloss of art; 
’Tis he extracts a bliss refined, 
Congenial to the virtuous mind, 
The tender feeling heart. 
v 
