94 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Thy self-renewing race 
Have breathed their balmy lives away, 
In this neglected place. 
And oh! till nature’s final doom 
Here unmolested may they bloom, 
From scythe and plough secure ; 
This bank their cradle and their tomb, 
■While earth and skies endure ! 
J. Montgomery. 
HEART’S EASE. 
I used to love thee, simple flower 
To love thee dearly, when a boy; 
For thou didst seem, in childhood’s hour, 
The smiling type of childhood’s joy. 
But now thou only mock’st my grief 
By waking thoughts of pleasure fled; 
Give me—give me the withered leaf, 
That falls on Autumn’s bosom dead. 
For that ne’er tells of what has been, 
But warns me what I soon shall be; 
It looks not back on pleasure’s scene, 
But points unto futurity. 
I love thee not, thou simple flower, 
For thou art gay and I am lone : 
Thy beauty died with childhood’s hour— 
The Heart's-ease from my path is gone. 
