- 
I wish the oud would never blow! 
’T is prettier and purer so: 
It blushes through its bower of green, 
An d peeps above the mossy screen, 
So timidly — I cannot bear 
To have it open to the air! 
f. s. o. 
EGOTISM. 
poet’s narcissus. 
N arcissus fair 
As o’er the fabled fountain hanging still. 
Thomson. 
The poet’s narcissus exhales a very agreeable perfume; it 
bears a golden crown in the centre of its pure white petals, 
which expand quite flat, the stem slightly inclining to one side. 
The cup or nectary in the centre, which is very short, is frequent¬ 
ly bordered with a bright purple circle, and sometimes the nec¬ 
tary is edged with crimson. 
Ovid, in his metamorphoses, tells us of the fate of the lovely 
and coy Narcissus. A thousand nymphs loved the handsome 
youth,'but suffered the pangs of unrequited love. Viewing 
himself in the crystal fount he became enamoured of his own 
image. 
Narcissus on the grassy verdure lies; 
But while within the crystal fount he tries 
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise. 
For, as his own bright image he surveyed, 
He fell in love with the fantastic shade; 
And o’er the fair resemblance hung unmoved, 
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he loved. 
Ovid. 
/ 
