90 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Wreathes the whole circle of the year, 
Companion of the sun. 
Tt smiles upon the lap of May, 
To sultry August spreads its charms, 
Lights pale October on its way, 
And twines December’s arms. 
The purple heath, and golden broom, 
On moory mountains catch the gale, 
O’er lawns the lily sheds perfume, 
The violet in the vale. 
But this bold floweret climbs the hill, 
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen, 
Plays on the margin of the rill, 
Peeps round the fox’s den. 
Within the garden’s cultured round, 
It shares the sweet carnation’s bed 3 
And blooms on consecrated ground 
In honour of the dead. 

The lambkin crops its crimson gem, 
The wild bee murmurs on its breast, 
The blue-fly bends his purple stem, 
Light o’er the sky-lark’s nest. 
Tis Flora’s page.—In every place, 
In every season, fresh and fair, 




