I 
I 
THE I OETRY OF FLOWERS. 25 
Whaje waves never mark though they ever 
impress 
The light sand which paves it, consciousness; 
Only overhead the sweet nightingale 
Ever sang more sweet as the day might fail, 
And snatches of its Elysian chant 
Were mix’d with the dreams of the sensitive 
plant;) 
The sensitive plant was the earliest 
Up-gathrr’d into the bosom of rest; 
A sweet child weary of its delight, 
The fee'Jest and yet the favourite, 
Cradled within the embrace of nigL 
FART II. 
Then was a power in this sweet place, 
An h '.ve in this Eden; a ruling grace 
Which to the flowers, did they waken or dream, 
Was as God is to the starry scheme : 
A lady, the wonder of her kind, 
Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind, 
Which, dilating, had moulded her mien and mo* 
tion 
ike a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean, 
