52 
THE SENSITIVE PLANT. 
ILLUSTRATION OF TI1E SENTIMENT. 
Like the Mimosa, shrinking from 
The blight of some familiar finger,— 
Like flowers which but in secret bloom, 
Where aye the shelter’d shadows linger. 
And which, beneath the hot noon ray, 
Would fold their leaves and fade away— 
The flowers of love, in secret cherish’d. 
In loneliness and silence nourish’d, 
Shrink backward from the searching eye, 
Until the stem whereon they flourish’d, 
Their shrine, the human heart, has perish’d, 
Although themselves may never die. 
****** 
Life’s sunniest hours are not without 
The shadow of some lingering doubt; 
Amid its brightest joys will steal 
Spectres of evil yet to feel; 
Its warmest love is blent with fears; 
Its confidence a trembling one; 
Its smile the harbinger of tears; 
Its hope the change of April’s sun ;— 
A weary lot, in mercy given, 
To fit the chasten’d soul for heaven. 
Whittiek. 
