120 
rOETBY OF FLOWERS. 
The year’s past pleasures ; 
And led by kindred thought will flee, 
Till back to careless infancy 
The path she measures. 
Beneath autumnal breezes bleak, 
So faintly fair, so sadly meek, 
I’ve seen thee bending; 
Pale as the pale veins that streak 
Consumption’s thin transparent cheek. 
With death hues blending. 
Thou shalt be sorrow’s love and mine. 
The violet and the eglantine 
With spring are banished ; 
In summer’s beam the roses shine ; 
But I of thee my wreath will twine. 
When these are vanishe ,1. 
TO THE DAISY. 
Little flower with starry brow, 
Slumbering in thy bed of snow ; 
Or with lightly tinged ray. 
Winter gone and storms away, 
Peeping from thy couch of green 
With modest head and simple mien 
