rOETr.Y OF FLOWERS. 
93 
Will that clime enfold thee 
With immortal air? 
Shall we not behold thee 
Bright and deathless there ? 
In spirit-lustre clothed, transcendently more fair ? 
Yes! my fancy sees thee 
In that light disclose, 
And its dream thus frees thee 
From the mist of woes, 
Darkening thine earthly bowers, 0 bridal, royal 
rose! 
THE LIFE OF FLOWERS. 
T WOULD, dear love! that I thy convert were 
To that strange lore,—The fair flowers dream 
and feel. 
Are glad and woful, fond and scornful are ; 
And mutely conscious how the unresting wheel 
Of Time revolveth, and doth hourly steal 
Their beauty, and the heart-companionship 
Of their nectarious kindred, and reveal 
Their souls to sunlight, and with fragrant lip 
Drink the abundant dews that from God’s eye¬ 
lids drip. 
