22 THE BOUQUET. 

CHAMOMILE, 
ANTHEMIS NOBILIS. 
Energy in Adversity. 
I sarD to Sorrow’s awful storm, 
That beat against my breast, 
Rage on— thou mayst destroy this form, 
And lay it low, at rest ; 
Yet still the spirit, that now brooks 
Thy tempest, raging high, 
Undaunted on its fury looks 
With steadfast eye. 
I said to Penury’s meagre train, 
Come on— your threats I brave ; 
My last poor life-drop:you may drain, 
And crush me to the grave; 
Yet still the spirit, that endures, 
Shall mock your force the while, 
And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours 
With bitter smile. 











I said to cold Neglect and Scorn, 
Pass on — I heed you not; 
You may pursue me till my form 


And being are forgot ; 






