








22 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat, 
And earthward bent thy gentle eye, 
Unapt thy passing view to meet, 
When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh. 
Oft in the sunless April day, 
Thy early smile has stayed my walk, 
But, ’midst the gorgeous blooms of May, 
I pass’d thee on thy humble stalk. 
So they who climb to wealth, forget 
The friends in darker fortunes tried ; 
I copied them—but I regret 
That I should ape the ways of pride. 
And when again the genial hour 
Awakes the painted tribes of light, 
Pll not o’erlook the modest flower 
‘That made the woods of April bright. 
THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 
Tov blossom bright with autumn dew, 
And coloured with the heaven’s own bluse, 
That openest when the quiet light 
Succeeds the keen and frosty night. 
