The Poetry of Flowers. 
35 
See how they have safely survived 
The powers of a sky so severe ; 
Such Mary’s true love, that has lived 
Through many a turbulent year. 
The charms of the late-blowing Rose 
Seem graced with a livelier hue, 
And the winter of sorrow best shows 
The truth of a friend such as you. 
THE ALMOND-TREE. 
BY MISS LANDON. 
Fleeting and falling, 
Where is the bloom 
Of yon fair Almond-tree? 
It is sunk in the tomb. 
Its tomb wheresoever 
The wind may have borne 
The leaves and the blossoms 
Its roughness has torn. 
Some there are floating 
On yon fountain’s breast, 
Some line the moss 
Of the nightingale’s nest. 
Some are just strewn 
O’er the green grass below, 
And there they lie stainless 
As winter’s first snow. 
Yesterday, on the boughs, 
They hung scented and fair ; 
To-day they are scattered 
The breeze best knows where. 
