THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
149 
Each and all like ministering angels were 
For the Sensitive Plant sweet joy to bear, 
Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by 
Like windless clouds o’er a tender sky. 
And when evening descended from heaven above, 
And the earth was all rest, and the air was all love, 
And delight, though less bright, was far more deep, 
And the day’s veil fell from the world of sleep, 
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The Sensitive Plant was the earliest 
Up-gathered into the bosom of rest; 
A sweet child weary of its delight, 
The feeblest, and yet the favourite, 
Cradled within the embrace of night. 
THE SNOWDROP.— Consolation. 
Keble cheerfully welcomes this modest flower :— 
Thou first-born of the year’s delight, pride of the dewy 
glade, 
In vernal green and virgin white, thy vestal robes, 
arrayed. 
Thy shy averted smiles 
To fancy bode a joyous year, one of life’s fairy isles. 
They twinkle to the wintry moon, and cheer the un- 
genial day, 
And tell us, all will glisten soon as green and bright 
as they. 
Is there a heart, that loves the Spring, their witness 
can refuse ? 
