POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
35 
It smiles upon tlie lap of May, 
To sultry August spreads its charms, 
Lights pale October on his way. 
And twines December’s arms. 
The purple heath and golden broom, 
On moory mountains catch the gale, 
O’er lawns the lily sheds perfume, 
The violet in the vale: 
But this bold floweret climbs the hill, 
Hides in the forests, haunts the glen, 
Plays on the margin of the rill, 
Peeps round the fox’s den. 
"Within the garden’s cultured round, 
It shares the sweet carnation’s bed; 
And blooms on consecrated ground, 
In honour of the dead. 
The lambkin crops its crimson gem, 
The wild bee murmurs on its breast, 
The blue fly bends its pensile stem 
Light o’er the skylark’s nest. 
’Tis Flora’s page :—in every place, 
In every season fresh and fair, 
It opens with perennial grace, 
And blossoms every where. 
On waste and woodland, rock and plain, 
Its humble buds unheeded rise ; 
The Bose has but a summer reign, 
The Daisy never dies. 
Montgomery. 
c 2 
