ISO 
THE FOETHY OF FLOWERS. 
“ What glory then for me, 
In such a company ? 
Roses plenty, roses plenty, 
And one nightingale for twenty! 
“ Nay, let me in,” said she, 
“ Before the rest are free. 
In my loneness, in my lonenesa. 
All the fairer for that oneness. 
“ For I would lonely stand, 
Uplifting my white hand, 
On a mission, on a mission, 
To declare the coming vision. 
“ See mine, a holy heart, 
To high ends set apart,— 
All unmated, all unmated, 
Because so consecrated. 
“ Upon which lifted sign, 
What worship will be mine ! 
What addressing, what caressing, 
What thanks, and praise and blessing’ 
“ A wind-like joy will rush 
Through every tree and bush, 
Bending softly in affection, 
And spontaneous benediction. 
