ey! 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Within the arms of Night its rest doth take; 
But ye are wakeful wheresoe’er we stray.— 
I love yo all! 
Beautiful objects of the wild-bee’s love ! 
The wild-bird joys your opening bloom to see, 
And in your native woods and wilds to be; 
All hearts, to Nature true, ye strangely move; 
Ye are so passing fair—so passing free,— 
I love yeall! 
Beautiful children of the glen and dell— 
The dingle deep—the moorland stretching wide, 
And_of the mossy fountain’s sedgy side ! 
Ye o’er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell; 
And, though the Worldling, scorning, may 
deride,— 
Llove ye ali! 
SONG TO DIAPHENIA. 
DiaPueEn’s like the daffy-down-dilly, 
White as the sun, fair as the lily, 
Heigh-ho ! how I do love thee ! 
I do love thee as my lambs 
Are beloved of their dams; 
How blest were I if thou would’st prove me! 

