POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
19 
And nature in decay 
Assumes a mournful mien. 
How like adversity’s rude blast 
Upon the helpless one, 
When hope’s gay visions all have pass’d, 
And to oblivion gone. 
^ et winter has some beauties left, 
t Which cheer my heart forlorn ; 
Is aturc is not of charms bereft, 
Though shrouded by the storm. 
I see the sparkling snow; 
I view the mountain tops; 
I mark the frozen lake below, 
Or the dark rugged rocks. 
How truly grand the scene! 
The giant trees are bare, 
Ho fertile meadows intervene 
IN o hillocks fresh and fair; 
But the cloud-capp’d mountains rise, 
Crown’d with purest whiteness, 
And mingle with the skies, 
I hat shine with azure brightness. 
And solitude,that friend so dear 
T o each reflecting mind, 
Her residence has chosen here, 
To soothe the heart refined. 
M. Davidson. 
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