POETRY OF FLOWERS. . g7 
THE CYPRUS. 
Tuov graceful tree, 
With thy green branches drooping, 
As to yon blue heaven stooping 
In meek humility _ 
Like one who patient grieves, 
When winds are o’er thee sweeping, 
Thou answerest but by weeping; 
While tear-like fall thy leaves, 
When summer flowers have birth, 
And the sun is o’er thee shining; 
Yet with thy slight bows declining, 
Still thou seekest the earth. 
Thy leaves are ever green : 
When other trees are changing, 
With the seasons o’er them ranging ; 
Thou art still as thou hast been. 
It is not just to thee, 
For painter or bard to borrow 
Thy emblem as that of Sorrow ; 
Thou art more like Piety, 


