196 
POETRY OE FLOWERS. 
Then droop and fade ; 
Thi' god still shines as warm and bright 
O’er lawn and mead ; 
And other flowers shall woo his light 
In sunny hour, 
But none so true from morn till night 
As thou, poor flower ! 
TO A WINTER BLOOMING WILD 
FLOWER. 
Lone dweller in the bleak and barren spot 
That finds no shelter from a leafless tree. 
Though very desolate may be thy lot. 
Almost I wish that I resembled thee. 
Not in thy beauty, flowret azure-hue 1! 
Nor in thy faint, wind-wasted fragrancy— 
Nor in the stillness of thy solitude— 
My heart, companionless, would broken be. 
But I, like thee, upspringing from the sod. 
Would lift, through storms, a cheerful eye to 
Heaven, 
Trusting the bounteous hand of Nature’s God, 
Sunshine and storm for equal good hath given 
