136 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 
There was a lurking devil in his sneer. 
Byron. 
When all around, with heartless mirth, 
At deeds of virtuous daring rail; 
Or coldly sneer at angel-worth, 
Because its schemes of goodness fail; 
One brow with generous anger glows, 
One heart a manlier verdict sends, 
One fearless voice unfaltering flows, 
In warm defence of absent friends! 
F. S. O. 
JOY. 
WOOD-SORREL. 
The wood-sorrel, vulgarly called “ cuckoo’s bread,” flowers 
very freely about Easter. This pretty little plant shuts its 
leaves, closes its corollas, and the flowers hang pendent and 
drooping from the stems. They seem to yield themselves to 
sleep ; but at the first dawn of day we may say that they are 
filled with joy, for they throw back their leaves, and expand 
their flowers; and we doubt not it is on this account that peas¬ 
ants have said that they sing the praises of their Creator. 
