flora’s dial. 55 
&pril 13. 
CINQUEFOIL. — The Dead. 
No longer mourn for me when I am dead. 
Then you shall hear the surly, sullen hell 
Give warning to the world that I am fled 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell. 
Nay, if you read this line, remember not 
The hand that writ it, for I love you so, 
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, 
If thinking of me then, should work you wo! 
Shakspeare. 
^pril 14. 
BIRCH. — Meekness. 
In action prudent, and in word sincere, 
In friendship faithful, and in honor clear; 
Through life’s vain scenes, the same in every part, 
A steady judgment, and an honest heart. 
Thou vauntest no honors, — all thy boast, a mind 
As infant’s guileless, and as angel’s kind. 
Colton. 
