POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
63 
Springing in valleys green and low, 
And on the mountains high, 
And in the silent wilderness, 
Where no man passeth by ? 
Our outward life requires them not, 
Then wherefore had they birth ?—■ 
To minister delight to man, 
To beautify the earth ; 
To whisper hope — to comfort man 
"Whene’er his faith is dim; 
For whoso careth for the flowers 
Will care much more for him. 
LINES ON FLOWERS. 
Flowers are the brightest things which earth 
On her broad bosom loves to cherish; 
Gay they appear as children’s mirth, 
Like fading dreams of hope they perish. 
In every clime, in every age, 
Mankind have felt their pleasing sway ; 
And lays to them have deck’d the page 
Of moralist—and minstrel gay. 
By them the lover tells his tale, 
They can his hopes, his fears express ; 
The maid, when words or look would fail, 
Can thus a ktrid return confess. 
