14 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The gay and glorious creatures ! they neither “ toil 
nor spin,” 
Yet, lo! what goodly raiment they’re all apparelled in! 
No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more 
bright 
Than ever brow of eastern queen endiademed in light. 
The young rejoicing creatures! their pleasures never 
pall, 
Nor yield the less contentment, because so free to all; 
The dew, the showers, the sunshine, the balmy blessed 
air, 
Spend nothing of their freshness, tho’ all may freely 
share. 
The happy, careless creatures ! of time they take no 
heed, 
Nor Aveary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed, 
Nor sigh with sick impatience, and wish the light 
away, 
Nor when ’tis gone, cry dolefully, “ Would God that 
it were day!” 
But when their lives are over, on holy Nature’s breast, 
Unconscious of the penal doom, they drop away to 
rest; 
No pain have they in dying, no shrinking from decay, 
Oh ! could we but return to rest as easily as they! 
Miss C. Bowles. 
