THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 21 
The snow-drop, and then the violet, 
Arose from the ground with warm rain wet; 
And their breath was mix’d with fresh odour, serf 
From the turf, like the voice to the instrument. 
Then the pied wind-flowers, and the tulip tall, 
And narcissi, the fairest among them all— 
Who gaze on their eyes in the stream’s recestt. 
Till they die of their own dear loveliness 1 
And the naiad-like lily of the vale, 
Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so pala, 
That the light of its tremulous bells is seen 
Through their paviliois of tender green; 
And the hyacinth, purple, and white, and blue, 
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew 
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, 
It was felt like an odour within the sense; 
And the rose like a nymph to the bath addrest, 
Which unveil’d the depth of her glowing breast. 
Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air 
The soul of her beauty and love lay bare; 
And the wand-like lily, which lifted up, 
As a Maenad, its moonlight-colour’d cup, 
Till the fiery star, which is its eye, 
Gazed through clear dow on *he tender sky ■ 
