POETRY OF FLOWEPiS. 
95 
Or close in loveliness at Twilight’s feet 
They gave their thoughts and dreams; and 
thou dost quell 
A gentle spirit in each blossom sweet 
(Which its love-conscious mates for ever pine to 
greet — 
And pine in vain !) which thy small hand doth 
sunder 
From its green birth-place!—Art thou of those 
that sleep 
In common thought, to whom there is no wonder 
In all the universe sublime and deep — 
Invisible and visible ! There weep 
Dews of a Morning round us, which must break— 
And unveil all things o’er which darkly sweep 
The night-shades of our ignorance. Awake ! 
And in this creed believe—for love’s, if not truth’s 
sake. 
THE LAST WISH. 
Go to the forest shade— 
Seek thou the well-known glade 
Where, heavy with sweet dew, the violets lie. 
Gleaming through moss-tufts deep. 
Like dark eyes filled with sleep. 
And bathed in hues of summer’s midnight sky. 
X 
