
FOETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Will that clime enfold thee 
With immortal air ? 
Shall we not behold thee 
Bright and deathless there ? 
Yn spirit-lustre clothed, transcendently more 
fair ? 
Yes ! my fancy sees thee 
In that light disclose, 
And its dream thus frees thee 
From the mist of woes, 
Darkening thine earthly bowers, O bridal, royal 
rose ! 
THE LIFE OF FLOWERS. 
I wovtp, dear love! that I thy convert were 
To that strange lore—The fair flowers dream 
and feel, 
Are glad and woful, fond and scornful are; 
And mutely conscious how the unresting whee] 
Of Time revolveth, and doth hourly steal 
Their beauty, and the heart-companionship 
Of their nectarious kindred, and reveal 
Their souls to sunlight, and with fragrant lip 
Drink the abundant dews that from God’s eye- 
lids drip. 



