DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 137 
drooping bells, emblems ‘returning happiness.’ 
It is one of Flora’s sweetest, chastest children, 
seeking the shade, as if it feared the glances from 
the king of day might cause a blush to spread its 
pale cheek. 
ANON. 
There is a pale and modest flower. 
In garb of green arrayed, 
That decks tho rustic maiden’s bower 
And blossoms in the glade; 
Though other flowers around me bloom, 
In gaudy splendor drest, 
Filling the air with rich perfume, 
I love the lily best. 
THE WITHERED LEAF. 
ANON. 
Swept from thy parent bough, 
Poor withered leaf! where tendest thou ? 
* Forsooth, I cannot say! 
The fickle storm’s relentless stroke 
Has overcome the aged oak, 
My sole and only stay. 
Westward and north since morning’s dawn, 
The sport alike of every gale, 
I've crossed the forest and the lawn, 
The mountain’s summit, and the dale — 
I go where lists the wind. ’ 
