POETRY OF FLOWERS. 55 
Where feathery fern, and golden bloom, 
Increase the sand-rock cavern’s gloom, 
I’ve seen thee tangled, 
*Mid tufts of purple heather bloom, 
By vain Arachne’s treacherous loom, 
With dew-drops spangled. 
‘*Mid ruins tumbling to decay, 
Thy flowers their heavenly hues display, 
Still freshly springing 
Where pride and pomp have pass’d away, 
On mossy tomb and turret grey, 
Like friendship clinging. 
When glow-worm lamps illume the scene, 
And silvery daisies dot the green, 
Thy flowers revealing ; 
Perchance to soothe the fairy-queen, 
With faint sweet tones, on night serene, 
Thy soft bells pealing. 
But most I love thine azure braid, 
When softer flowers are all decayed, 
And thou appearest 
Stealing beneath the hedgerow shade, 
Like joys that linger as they fade, 
Whose last are dearest. 
Thou art the flower of memory ; 
The pensive soul recalls in thee 









