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Sa en a ete eae 
PRIMROSE, 
PRIMULA ACAULIS. 
Early Youth. 
Farrer flowers which gardens bear, 
Proud exotics reared with care, 
Beautiful though they may be, 
Never can compare with thee. 
Thou art rich, from memory’s store, 
With the wealth of life’s young lore ; 
Love by books but poorly taught, 
Wealth by riches never bought. 
Faintly, while I look on thee, 
Seems the past again to be; 
Sights and sounds which then were dear, 
Greet again my eye and ear. 
Grateful is it yet to feel 
In the heart thy mute appeal; 
Lingering greenness lurking there, 
Feelings such as these declare. 
Shed, then, on dark manhood’s gloom, 
Gleams of sunshine from thy bloom, 
Through whose spell the spirit seems 
Once more young in childhood’s dreams. 
BaRTON. 

