THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 35 
So, though your life is but a day, 
We grieve not at j our swift decay ; 
He, who smiles in your bright faces, 
Sends us more to take your places; 
’Tis for this ye fade so soon, 
That he may renew the boon: 
That kindness often may repeat 
These mute messages so sweet: 
That Love to plainer speech may get, 
Conning oft his alphabet; 
That beauty may be rain’d from heaven, 
New with every morn and even, 
With freshest fragrance sunrise greetings 
Therefore are ye, flowers, so fleeting. 
■—«- 
TO THE SMALL CELANDINE. 
WORDSWORTH. 
Pansies, lilies, king-cups, daisies, 
Let them live upon their praises; 
Long as there’s a sun that sets, 
Primroses will have their glory; 
Long as there are violets, 
They will have a place in story: 
There’s a flower that shall be mine, 
'Tis the little Celandine. 
