POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part 
Some act by the delicate mind, 
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart, 
Already to sorrow resigned. 
This elegant Rose, had I shaken it less, 
Might have bloomed with its owner a while ; 
And the tear that is wiped with a little address, 
May be followed perhaps with a smile. 
Cowpf.r. 
THE ROSE, 
v. 
How much of memory dwells amidst thy bloom, 
Rose! ever wearing beauty for thy dower! 
The bridal day—the festival—the tomb— 
Thou hast thy part in each,—thou stateliest flower! 
Therefore with thy soft breath come floating by 
A thousand images of love and grief, 
Dreams filled with tokens of mortality, 
Deep thoughts of all things beautiful and brief. 
Hot such thy spells o’er those that hailed thee first 
In the clear light of Eden's golden day; 
There thy rich leaves to crimson glory burst, 
Linked with no dim remembrance of decay. 
