DROPS FROM FLORA’S CDP. 119 
THE THREE FLOWERS. 
PERCIVAL. 
A tulip blossomed, one morning in May, 
By the side of a sanded alley; 
Its leaves were dressed in rich array, 
Like the clouds at the earliest dawn of day, 
When the mist rolls over the valley. 
The dew had descended the night before, 
And lay on its velvet bosom, 
And its spreading urn was flowing o’er, 
And the crystal heightened the tints it bore 
On its yellow and crimson blossom. 
A sweet red rose, on its bending thorn, 
Its bud was newly spreading; 
And the flowing effulgence of the early mom 
Its beams on its breast was shedding. 
The petals were heavy with dripping tears, 
That twinkled in pearly brightness;. 
And the thrush in its covert filled my ears 
With a varied song of lightness. 
A lily, in mantle of purest snow, 
Hung over the silent fountain, 
And the wave, in its calm and quiet flow, 
Displayed its silken leaves below, 
like the drift on the windy mountain: 
