16 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long 
ago, 
And the briar-rose and the orchis died amid the sum¬ 
mer glow; 
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the 
wood, 
And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn 
beauty stood, 
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls 
the plague on men, 
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from up¬ 
land, glade and glen. 
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still 
such days will come, 
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter 
home; 
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though 
all the trees are still, 
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, 
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fra¬ 
grance late he bore, 
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream 
no more. 
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty 
died, 
The fair, meek blossom that grew up and Aided by 
my side: 
