THE AIR-PLANT. 
113 
THE AIR-PLANT. 
EPIDENDRUM FLOS AERIS. 
Oh! wrong not Fancy, nor with stem rebuke 
Deciy her flights ; she hath her sober hours, 
Her sabbath moods, and on creation’s book 
With kindling glance the fond enthusiast pores. 
She knows each tone of nature’s mighty lyre, 
Knows it and loves ; from evening’s gentlest breeze 
To the wild roar which bursts, when in their ire 
For ruthless conflict meet the winds and seas. 
And when with chasten’d feeling thus she holds 
Converse with nature, then nor shrab, nor tree, 
Nor flower that to the sun its leaves unfolds, 
But breathes a text for some pure homily. 
The tribe to which this plant belongs, take it all in 
all, is, perhaps, the most singular in its properties and 
habits of any yet subjected to botanical research. Many 
of the species, however, are not only singular, but ex¬ 
tremely beautiful and odoriferous; and rising to the 
tops of the highest trees, — 
- “ invest each branch, 
Else unadorn’d, with many a gay festoon 
And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well 
The strength they borrow with the grace they lend.” 
I 
