THE FLORAL OFFERING. 
“My thanks for the tenderness shown to the child; 
I know he is petulant, playful and wild,. 
I wish we could teach him more gravity; 
But when he’s seen more of the world, he’ll outgrow, 
I trust, every light peccadillo. 
I wish him to study the languages so 
Fit him out for his travels,—at once let him go, 
And Jupiter bless the dear fellow!” 
The white doves were harnessed—the car polished bright 
The nymphs and his mother wept o’er him; 
He mounted—he bowed—and away like the light, 
Past comet and star, sped the Paphian sprite, 
With his bow and his arrows before him. 
The second he reached at the close of the day, 
And he called for a bottle of nectar, 
But the blushing bar-maid murmured “What did you say? 
Is it this?” and she gave him a glass of tokay— 
Ah! do not of mischief suspect her! 
The last stole over his senses wild, 
With a strange, entrancing power; 
He danced—he staggered—he sang—he smiled, 
And at length he wandered away, poor child, 
To weep in the garden-bower! 
His tears sank warm in the earth, and lo! 
A flower sprang up, like a fairy! 
While the girl, as she saw the boy-god go, 
Exclaimed, “He has left me a token though. 
In this blossom, wild, glowing and airy! 
I will name it for him—the stranger bright, 
For I know who it was by his ringlets:” 
So she called it the whole for the wildered sprite, 
And it blushed and smiled, through its lattice light, 
As she wreathed its soft bloom in her ringlets. 
F. S. O. 
