92 
The Poeiry of Flowers. 
Thou, who send’st it forth alone 
To the cold and sullen season 
(Like a thought at random thrown), 
Sent it thus for some grave reason 1 
If ’twere but to pierce the mind 
With a single gentle thought, 
Who shall deem thee harsh or blind ? 
Who that thou hast vainly wrought ? 
Hoard the gentle virtue caught 
From the Snowdrop— reader wise ! 
Good is good, wherever taught, 
On the ground or in the skies ! 
TO THE JESSAMINE. 
BY MISS JANE TAYLOR. 
Sweet Jessamine ! long may thy elegant flower 
Breathe fragrance and solace for me ! 
And long thy green sprigs overshadow the bower 
Devoted to friendship and thee. 
The eye that was dazzled where Lilies and Roses 
I heir brilliant assemblage displayed, 
With grateful delight on thy verdure reposes, 
A tranquil and delicate shade. 
But ah ! what dejection that foliage expresses, 
Which pensively droops on her breast! 
The dew of the evening has laden her tresses, 
And stands like a tear on her crest. 
I'll watch by thy side through the gloom of the night, 
Impatient till morning appears : 
No charm can awaken this heart to delight, 
My Jessamine, while thou art in tears. 
