100 
CHILDREN AND FLOWERS. 
I 
Another poet, who passed a weary and a 
toilsome life,— 
“'Chained to the desk, the world’s o’er-laboured slave,” 
Thus recurs to the sweet morn of existence ;— 
“ How beautiful 
The vernal hour of life. Then pleasure wings 
With lightning speed the moments, and the sun 
Burns brightly, and nor cloud nor storm appears 
To darken the horizon. Hope looks out 
Into the dazzling sheen, and fondly talks 
Of summer, and Love comes, and all the air 
Rings with wild harmonies.”— Carrington. 
Alas ! that he should have found occasion to 
draw the veil of disappointment and regret over 
this bright picture. 
“If people would-be wise enough through 
life to derive enjoyment from such innocent 
pleasures as delighted them in childhood, we 
should find far fewer sour tempers, cold hearts, 
and narrow minds in the world. All, except 
positive idiots, are endowed by God with a por¬ 
tion of that beautiful poetry of existence, which 
in childhood is so conspicuously evident, teach- 
