190 
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 
Oh! many a stormy night shall close 
In gloom upon the barren earth, 
While still, in undisturbed repose, 
Uninjured lies the future birth; 
And Ignorance, with skeptic eye, 
Hope’s patient smile shall wondering view* 
Or mock her fond credulity, 
As her soft tears the spot bedew. 
Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear. 
The sun, the shower indeed shall come; 
The promised verdant shoot appear, 
And Nature bid her blossoms bloom. 
And thou, 0 virgin queen of spring! 
Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed, 
Bursting thy green shade’s silken string, 
Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed; 
Unfold thy robes of purest white, 
Unsullied from thy darksome grave, 
And thy soft petals’ silvery light 
In the mild breeze unfettered wave. 
So Faith shall seek the lowly dust 
Where humble sorrow loves to lie, 
And bid her thus her hopes intrust, 
And watch with patient, cheerful eye; 
