DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 
13 
HEAM-EASE. 
MES. SirEllIDAN. 
In gardens oft a beauteous flower there grows, 
By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen; 
In sweet security it humbly blows, 
And rears its purple head to deck the green. 
This flower, as Nature’s poet sweetly sings, 
Was once milk-white, and ‘ heart’s-ease’ was its 
name, 
Till wanton Cupid poised its roseate wings, 
A vestal’s sacred bosom to inflame. 
With treacherous arm the god his arrow drew, 
Which she with icy coldness did repel; 
Rebounding thence, with feathery speed it flew 
Till on this lonely flower, at last it fell. 
Heart’s-ease no more; the wandering shepherd 
found; 
No more the nymphs its snowy form possess; 
Its white now changed to purple by love's wound, 
Heart’s-ease no more, — ’t is love in idleness. 
And these are pansies that’s for thought. 
Shakspeaee. 
