POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
That Nature’s hand had form’d for thee, 
When first her dews were on thee shed, 
Then had thy blossoms never known 
The blast that o’er their buds have blown.” 
It seem’d to say, “The loveliest flower, 
That keeps unmoved its native sphere, 
May brave the season’s changeful poAver, 
And live through many a stormy year ; 
For mercy guides the fiercest gale, 
And halcyon skies again prevail.” 
Happy are those alone who aim 
In duty’s quiet path to shine, 
And, careless of the meed of fame, 
Unseen their fairest garlands twine; 
Whilst He, whose eye in secret sees, 
To them the Amaranth croAvn decrees. 
THE SNOWDROP. 
i. 
The Snoivdrop , Winter’s timid child, 
Awakes to life, bedeAv’d Avith tears, 
And flings around its fragrance mild; 
And where no rival flowerets bloom, 
Amidst the bare and chilling gloom, 
A beauteous gem appears! 
