52 
POETRY OP PROWERS. 
»Tis not the bloom, though wild or rare. 
It is the Spirit power within, 
Which melts and moves our souls, to share 
The Paradise we here might win. 
For heaven itself around us lies, 
Not far, not yet our reach beyond, 
And we are watched by angels’ eyes, 
With hope and faith still fond! 
I well believe a Spirit dwells 
Within the flower ! least changed of all 
That of the passed Immortal tells— 
The glorious meeds before man’s fall; 
Yet, still, though I should never see 
The mystic grace within it shine—• 
Its essence is sublimity, 
Its feeling all divine. 
C. Swain. 
TO THE POSE. 
The star of love on evening’s brow hath smiled, 
Showering her golden influence with her beam ; 
Hush’d is the ocean wave, and soft and mild 
The breathing zephyr; lull’d is every stream, 
Placid and gentle as a vestal’s dream; 
