DEOPS PROM FLORA’S CUP. 81 
The Wanderer and the Night Flowers, 
MRS. HEMANS. 
Call back your odors, lovely flowers. 
From the night-winds call them back, 
And fold your leaves till the laughing hours 
Come forth in the sunbeam’s track. 
The lark lies couched in her grassy nest, 
And the honey-bee is gone, 
■And all bright things are away to rest, 
Why watch ye here alone ? 
Is not your world a mournful one 
When your sisters close their eyes, 
And your soft breath meets not a lingering tone 
Of song in the starry skies ? 
Take ye no joy in the day-spring's birth, 
When it kindles the sparks of dew, 
And the thousand strains of the forest’s mirth, 
Shall they gladden all but you ? 
Shut your sweet bells till the fawn comes out 
On the sunny turf to play, 
And the woodland child, with a fairy shout. 
Goes dancing on its way. 
