14 
FLOWERS BY THE POETS. 
THE FEAST OF ROSES. 
A happier smile illumes each brow, 
With quicker spread each heart uncloses. 
And all in ecstacy—for now 
The valley holds its feast of Roses ; 
The joyous time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round and, in their shower. 
Hearts open, like the Season’s Rose,— 
The flow’ret of a hundred leaves 
Expanding while the dew-fall flows, 
And every leaf its balm receives. 
Lalla Rookh. 
BUDS OF ROSES. 
Buds of Roses, virgin flowers, 
Cull’d from Cupid’s balmy bowers. 
* * * * 
Rose, thou art the sweetest flower 
That ever drank the amber shower. 
Rose, thou art the fondest child 
Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild. 
Odes of Anacreon. 
PASSION FLOWER. 
And the faint Passion Flower, the sad and holy, 
Tell of diviner hopes. Hemans. 
