POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
107 
THE ROSE. 
Place this flower in thy bosom, my dear, 
’Tis the earliest rose of the year; 
What better an emblem can he 
Of beauty, of love, and of thee ? 
Ah, that blush and that glance seem to say 
Thorns encircle this young bud of May; 
Fear them not, the care still shall be mine 
To keep thorns from that bosom of thine. 
THE WALL-FLOWER. 
The wall-flower—the wall-flower, 
How beautiful it blooms, 
It gleams above the ruined tower, 
Like sunlight over tombs; 
It sheds a halo of repose 
Around the wrecks of Time: 
To beauty give the flaunting rose, 
The wall-flower is sublime. 
Flower of the solitary place! 
Gray Ruin’s golden crown ! 
Tliat lcndest melancholy grace 
To haunts of old renown; 
