96 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
May read in thee-; 
How small a part of time they share, 
That are so wondrous sweet and fair. 
Yet, though thou fade, 
Fjom thy dead leave let fragrance rise, 
And teach the Maid 
That Goodness Time’s rude hand defies, 
That Virtue lives when Beauty dies. 
Waller. 
FLOWERS. 
Oh ! they look upward in every place, 
Through this beautiful world of ours, 
And dear as a smile on an old friend’s face 
Is the smile of the bright, bright flowers ! 
They tell us of wand’rings by woods and streams 
They tell ns of lanes and trees; 
But the children of showers and sunny beams 
Have lovelier tales than these— 
The bright, bright flowers ! 
They tell of a season when men were not; 
When earth was by angels trod, 
And leaves and flowers in every spot 
Burst forth at the call of God. 
