


* When that, too, shades the trembling ground, 
Borne down by some tempestudus sky, 
And many a slumbering cottage round 
Startles—how still their hearts will lie} 
* Of them who, wrapp’d in earth so cold, 
No more the smiling day shall view, 
Should many a tender tale be told; 
For many a tender thought is due, 
‘ Hast thou not seen the lover pale, 
When evening brought the pensive hour, 
Step slowly o’er the shadowy vale, 
And stop to pluck the frequent flower ? 
* Those flowers he surely meant to strew 
On lost affection’s lowly cell, 
Tho’ there, as fond remembrance grew,— 
Forgotten from his hand they fell. 
‘ Has not for thee the fragrant thorn 
Been taught her first rose to resign ? 
With vain but pious fondness borne, 
To deck thy Nancy’s honoured shrine. 
‘Tis nature pleading in the breast, 
Fair memory of her works to find ; 
And when to fate she yields the rest, 
She claims the monumental} mind, 

POETRY OF FLOWERS. 151 


