PANSY 
Thought. 
In the sun-tinted, airy arch, that lightens through the gloom, 
Illumining yon clouded Heaven with beauty, joy, and bloom, 
We cannot trace a glimpse of all those tears, through which the storm 
Entwined with grace and purity its light-evolving form. 
The flowers that wreath the robe of Spring and bless with sweets the air— 
The gems that shift their sparkling hues in Beauty’s braided hair— 
Tell never of the secret toil with which, in silent gloom, 
Great Nature wrought, in earth’s deep heart, their glory and perfume. 
Ah! thus the child of genius pours, in solitude and tears, 
On one poor, fleeting page, the light, the love, of long, long years, 
And the gay world receives the ray, without a thought of all 
The clouds of fear and grief through which its prismed splendors fall; 
T^or cares to know how long, how wild the task that Feeling learns, 
Ere it reveal to all the thought with which it inly burns— 
The thought that, like a Lily, lends its incense to the skies, 
While its deep-hidden root is nursed with showers from Passion’s eves. 
F. S. O. 
