THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
THE WALL-FLOWER 
BY D. M. MOIR. 
The wall-flower—the wall-flower, 
How beautiful it blooms ! 
It gleams above the ruin’d tower, 
Like sunlight over tombs ; 
It sheds a halo of repose 
Around the wrecks of time 
To beauty give the flaunting rose, 
The wall-flower is sublime. 
Flower of the solitary place ! 
Gray ruin’s golden crown ! 
Thou lendest melancholy grace 
To haunts of old renown ; 
Thou mantlest o’er the battlement, 
By strife or storm decay’d ; 
And fillest up each envious rent 
Time’s canker-tooth hath made. 
Whither hath fled the choral band 
That fill’d the abbey’s nave ? 
Yon dark sepulchral yew-trees str nd 
O’er many a level grave ; 
In the belfry’s crevices, the dove 
Her young brood nurseth well. 
Whilst thou, lone flower ! dost shed above 
A sweet decaying smell. 
