20 
THE MORAL OF FLOWERS. 
tend to inspire hope than to awaken memory, whispering 
in a still small voice, “ The winter is past, the rain is 
over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the 
time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the 
turtle is heard in our land.” 
How knew ye when to waken ? did sweet Spring 
Bend o’er ye, as a mother o’er her child. 
With kindling glance, till ye look’d up and smiled ? 
Or did some frolic zephyr, on light wing. 
Visit your couch, and woo ye thus to fling 
Your early garlands on the lap of earth ? 
Whate’er the gentle spell which lured ye forth. 
We reap the boon, and hail your blossoming. 
Oh ! meekly bold, ye ever come to cheer 
Our hearts, and they are cheer’d; may storm nor blight, 
For this, ye nurslings of the opening year. 
Upon your silken petals e’er alight; 
For this, may sun and breeze, and dewdrop clear, 
Each minister in turn to your delight. 
