68 
The Poetry of Flowers. 
THE QUEEN OF THE GARDEN. 
BY MOORE. 
If Jove would give the leafy bowers 
A queen for all their world of flowers, 
The Rose would be the choice of Jove, 
And reign the queen of every grove. 
Sweetest child of weeping morning, 
Gem the vest of earth adorning, 
Eye of flow’rets, glow of lawns, 
Bud of beauty, nursed by dawns ; 
Soft the soul of love it breathes, 
Cypria’s brow with magic wreathes, 
And to the zephyr's warm caresses 
Diffuses all its verdant tresses, 
Till, glowing with the wanton’s play, 
It blushes a diviner ray ! 
THE COWSLIP. 
Unfolding to the breeze of May, 
The Cowslip greets the vernal ray, 
The topaz and the ruby gem, 
Her blossom’s simple diadem ; 
And, as the dew-drops gently fall, 
They tip with pearls her coronal. 
In princely halls and courts of kings 
Its lustrous ray the diamond flings ; 
Yet few of those who see its beam, 
Amid the torch-light's dazzling gleam, 
As bright as though a meteor shone, 
Can call the costly prize their own. 
But gems of every form and hue 
Are glittering here in morning dew ; 
