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the moral of flowers. 
Woodbridge, Suffolk, and is seen on the banks of the 
Arrow, Warwickshire.” 
‘ The sun his latest ray has shed. 
The wild-bird to its nest has sped, 
And buds which to the day-beam spread 
Their brightest glow, 
Incline their dew-besprinkled head 
In slumber now. 
« Then why art thou lone vigils keeping, 
Pale flower, when all beside are sleeping V 
Are not the same soft zephyrs sweeping 
Each slender stem, 
And the same opiate dew-drops steeping 
Both thee and them?’ 
< Eve is my noon—at this still hour 
When softly sleeps each sister flower, 
Sole watcher of the dusky bower 
I joy to be, 
And conscious feel the pale moon showei 
Her light on me. 
