168 
THE P0ETR OF FLOWERS. 
THE ROSES. 
BY BOWRINO. 
I saw them once blowing, 
While morning was glowing ; 
Bat now are their wither’d leaves strew’d o’er the 
ground, 
For tempests to play on, 
For cold worms to prey on, 
The shame of the garden that triumphs around. 
Their buds which then flourish’d, 
With dew-drops were nourish’d, 
Which turn’d into pearls as they fell fromon Idgk 
Their hues are all banish’d, 
Their fragrance ad vanish’d, 
Ere evening a shadow has cast from the sky. 
I saw, too, whole rvws 
Of glories and graces 
Thus open and blossom, but quickly decay; 
And smiling and gladness, 
In sorrow and sadness, 
Ere life reach d its twilight, fade dimly away. 
Joy’s light-hearted dances, 
And melody’s glances, 
