108 DROPS FROM FLORA’S CDF. 
And still may tliy tranquil and delicate sliade 
Yield fragrance and solace to me; 
For though all the flowers in my garden should 
fade, 
My heart will repose upon thee. 
’T was midnight — through the lattice wreathed 
With woodbine, many a perfume breathed 
From plants that wake when others sleep; 
From timid jasmine buds that keep 
Their odor to themselves all day; 
But when the sunlight dies away, 
Let the delicious secret out 
To every breeze that roams about. 
Moore. 
