


213 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Thy face ; as at the Light celestials hail, 
The seraphim theirs cover with their wings. 
THE NIGHT-BLOWING STOCK. 
Come, look at this plant with its narrow pale 
leaves, 
And its tall, thin, delicate stem, 
Thickly studded with flowers! yes with—there © 
they are! 
Don’t you see at each joint there’s a little brown 
star, 
But in truth there’s no beauty in them. 
So you ask why I keep it, the mean little thing, 
Why I stick it up here just in sight ? 
‘Tis a fancy of mine, a strange fancy you say, 
No accounting for tastes !—in this instance you 
may, 
For the flower——but I’ll tell you, to-night + 
Some six hours hence, when the Lady Moon 
Looks down on the bastion wall, 
And the glittering stars dance silently 
On the rippling surface of the sea, 
And the heavy night-dews fall ;— 




