66 
The Poetry of Flowers. 
HEART’S-EASE. 
I used to love thee, simple flower— 
To love thee dearly when a boy ; 
For thou didst seem in childhood's hour 
The smiling type of childhood’s joy. 
But now thou only worldst my grief, 
By waking thoughts of pleasures fled. 
Give me—give me the withered leaf, 
That falls on Autumn's bosom dead. 
For that ne’er tells of what has been, 
But warns me what I soon shall be ; 
It looks not back on pleasure’s scene, 
But points unto futurity. 
I love thee not, thou simple flower, 
For thou art gay, and I am lone ; 
Thy beauty died with childhood’s hour-— 
The Heart’s-ease from my path is gone. 
THE MOSS-ROSE. 
BY JOHN STERLING. 
Mossy Rose on mossy stone, 
Flowering 'mid the ruins lone, 
I have learnt, beholding thee, 
Youth and Age may well agree. 
Baby germ of freshest hue, 
Out of ruin issuing new ; 
Moss a long laborious growth, 
And one stalk supporting both. 
Thus may still, while fades the past, 
Life come forth again as fast; 
Happy if the relics sere 
Deck a cradle, not a bier. 
