Floral Poetry. 
170 
Thy smiles young innocence invite, 
What time thy lids awake, 
In shadowy lane to taste delight, 
Or mazy, tangled brake. 
The infant troop of rosy hue, 
And gay with health, I seem to view, 
While pleasure lights their laughing eyes ; 
With little hands a wreath combine, 
Their fugitive delights entwine, 
And boast their fragrant prize. 
Ah ! happy breasts, unknown to pain, 
I would not spoil your joys; 
Nor vainly teach you to complain 
Of life’s delusive toys. 
Be jocund still, still sport and smile, 
Nor dream of woe or future guile; 
For soon shall ye, awakened, find 
The joys of life’s sad thorny way 
But fading flowerets of a day, 
Cut down by every wind. 
Bidlake. 
THE PRIMROSE. 
JHTX.HE milk-white blossoms of the Thorn 
^ Are waving o’er the pool, 
Moved by the wind that breathes along, 
So sweetly and so cool. 
