90 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Like a beloved returning friend 
From absence doubly dear. 
Wert thou for ever in my sight, 
Might we not love thee less ? 
But now thou bringest new delight,— 
Thou still has power to bless. 
Still doth thine April presence bring 
Of April joys a dream; 
When life was in its sunny Spi'ing— 
A fair unrippled stream. 
And still thine exquisite perfume 
Is precious as of old ; 
And still thy modest tender bloom, 
It joys me to behold. 
It joys and cheers whene’er I see 
Pain on Earth’s meek ones press. 
To think the storm that rends the tree 
Scathes not thy lowliness. 
And thus may human weakness find, 
E’en on thy lowly flower. 
An image cheering to the mind 
In many a trying hour. 
