flora’s dial. 163 
November 15. 
LAURESTINE. — I die if neglected. 
A boat at midnight sent alone 
To drift upon a moonless sea, — 
A lute whose leading chord is gone, — 
A wounded bird that hath but one 
Imperfect wing to soar upon, — 
Are like what I am without thee! Moore. 
Nouemb-er 1G. 
MOUNTAIN LAUREL. — Ambition. 
As far as may be, she ’ll carve out 
Eree space for every human doubt, 
That the whole mind may orb about. 
Tennyson. 
November 17. 
LAUREL. — Glory. 
Give me the trumpet tone of fame, 
The victor’s wreath, the hero’s name ; 
Though bites the steel and clanks the chain, 
I would a warrior’s glory gain, 
A nation’s pet and idol be, 
With slaves to crouch and bend the knee. 
W. H. C. 
