94 
CHILDREN AND FLOWERS. 
Spies in his hand some baneful flower or iveed. 
Whereon he ’gins to smell, perchance to feed, 
With a more earnest haste she runs to him 
And pulls them from him.”— William Browne. 
Who can look upon the above picture, 
limned by the hand of one of Britain’s sweetest 
pastoral poets, without having the tenderest re¬ 
collections awakened within him, of a parent, 
now perchance sleeping in the cold church-yard, 
or if not so, divided from him by a wide gulph 
of worldly cares and interests, no longer exer¬ 
cising a judicious control over his actions ; no 
longer with a firm yet gentle hand, pulling from 
him the baneful weeds of folly, and flowers,— 
beautiful in appearance, and endued with fra- 
grancy, but fraught with a subtle poison,— 
which pleasure scatters over the pathway of 
man, luring him to tarry in her voluptuous 
bowers, and steep his soul in sensual delights, 
whereafter come repentance and vain self-re¬ 
proach, for precious time thus idly squandered, 
and opportunities irrevocably lost. 
