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— 
THE POETRY OF F L O AY E R S 
Yet in your every outward grace, 
Is beauty that might well beguile, 
Without the charm of heart and mind, 
An angel, in yon heaven enshrined. 
f. s. o. 
YOUR LOOKS FREEZE ME 
FICOIDES, OR ICE-PLANT. 
With pellucid studs the ice-flower gems 
His rising foliage, and his candied stems. 
Darwin. 
The leaves of this singular plant are covered with transpa¬ 
rent vesicles full of water. When in the shade it seems to be 
gemmed with dewdrops; but when exposed to the burning sun, 
it appears scattered over with frozen crystals, Avhich reflect 
with great brilliancy the rays of the sun: on this account it is 
commonly called ice-plant. 
The cold in clime are cold in blood, 
Their love can scarce deserve the name; — 
But mine was like the lava-flood, 
That boils in Etna’s breast of flame. 
Byron. 
