70 POETRY OF FLOWERS-. 
In common thought, to whom there is no wonder 
In all the universe sublime and deep^ 
Invisible and visible! There weep 
Dews of a morning round us, which must break—- 
And unveil all things o’er which darkly sweep 
The night-shades of our ignorance. Awake! 
And in this creed believe—for love’s, if not truth’: 
sake. 
TO A LOVER OF FLOWERS. 
Still, gentle lady, cherish flowers— 
True fairy friends are they, 
On whom, of all thy cloudless hours, 
Not one is thrown away; 
By them, unlike man’s ruder race, 
No care conferr’d is spurn’d, 
But all thy fond and fostering grace 
A thousand-fold return’d. 
The rose repays thee all thy smiles- 
The stainless lily rears 
Dew in the chalice of its wiles, 
As sparkling as thy tears. 
The glances of thy gladden’d eyes 
Not thanklessly are pour’d ; 
In the blue violet’s tender dyes 
Behold them all restored. 
