86 
POETRY OP FLOWERS. 
Or for the gaze of Leila’s eyes—• 
Thou happiest Primrose ’neath the skies 
I know not what it was that made 
My heart to love thee so; 
For, though all gentle things to me 
Were dear long, long ago, 
There was no bird upon the bough, 
No wild-flower on the lea, 
No twinkling star, no running brook, 
I loved so much as thee ; 
I watch’d thy coming every Spring, 
And hail’d thee as a living thing. 
And yet I look upon thee now 
Without one joyful thrill; 
The spirit of the past is dead, 
My heart is calm and still; 
A lovelier flower than even thou art 
Has faded from my sight, 
And the same chill that stole her bloom 
Brought unto me a blight,— 
’Tis fitting thou should’ st sadder seem, 
Since Leila perish’d like a dream! 
