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Floral Poetry. 
This fairest creature, from earliest spring, 
Thus moved through the garden, ministering, 
All the sweet season of the summer-tide, 
And ere the first leaf looked brown—she died. 
PART III. 
Three days the flowers of the garden fair, 
Like stars when the noon is awakened, were; 
Or the waves of the Baise, ere, luminous, 
She floats up through the smoke of Vesuvius. 
And on the fourth, the Sensitive Plant 
Felt the sound of the funeral chant, 
And the steps of the bearers, heavy and slow, \ 
And the sobs of the mourners, deep and low, 
The weary sound and the heavy breath, 
And the silent motions of passing death, 
And the smell, cold, oppressive, and dank, 
Sent through the pores of the coffin plank. 
The dark grass, and the flowers among the grass, 
Were bright with tears as the crowds did pass, 
From their sighs the wind caught a mournful tone, 
And sate in the pines, and gave groan for groan. 
The garden, once fair, became cold and foul, 
lake the corpse of her who had been its soul : 
Which at first was lovely, as if in sleep, 
Then slowly changed, till it grew a heap 
To make men tremble who never weep. 
Swift Summer into the Autumn flowed, 
And frost in the mist of the morning rode, 
Though the noon-day sun looked clear and bright, 
Mocking the spoil of the secret night. 
* __ 4 
I 
