






154 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
TO THE MELANCHOLY GILLY- 
FLOWER. 
Ox why, thou lone and lovely flower, 
Deny thy sweetness to the day ; 
And ever in night’s hushest hour, 
Still sigh thy fragrant life away ? 
The wild-bee murmurs round each spray; 
And kisses every flower but thine ; 
No scent allures the vagrant’s way, 
Or tempts him to thy golden mine. 
The glowing breath of gorgeous noon 
Is swelled by every other sweet ; 
Why dost thou only the pale moon 
And chilly night-winds love to greet? 
When young Endymion earliest dream’d 
On that wild hill’s enchanted ground, 
The faltering radiance fearful gleam’d, 
And cast a quivering light around. 
Still, in his dreams, did charmed sighs 
Float trembling o’er his favoured head, 
And strange mysterious music rise, 
And hover round his mountain bed. 
=a 
