THE ENCHANTED PLANTS. 221 
Why still deem Nature’s laws perverse, 
Who make her choicest gifts a curse ? 
Feeling, whose shrine thy tears profane 
Is not the eternal nurse of pain. 
When rain and tempest rule the hours. 
How sympathize the plants and flowers r 
The sun once more revives the plain. 
They laugh with hope and joy again. 
“ Mark pleasure’s fascinating wiles. 
And beauty’s heart-illixmined smiles ; 
The eye’s quick glancing rapture tells. 
Unquestioned, where the angel dwells. 
Where points the moon-beam, dost thou see. 
Near yon gray stone, a lofty tree ? 
The Cypress, mourner of the grove. 
Placed by the hand of widowed love ? 
His grief with dignity he hears, 
A dark and settled sorrow wears ; 
Affects no attitudes of wo. 
And scorns one trivial tear should flow. 
19 * 
