
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 307 
“While the gay, giddy world, full of pleasure and 
care, 
Never Punt of their Master and God, 
I am glad when I feel that his presence is here, 
In my ionely, yet peaceful, abode. 
“When around me he bids his mild sunshine ar ise, 
Iam grateful his goodness to own; 
I open, and smile, and look up to the skies, 
But I sadden and dr oop at his frown. 
‘“'When he rides by me on the soft breeze I bow, 
For I feel that the great God is nigh; 
And when o’er me he bidshis wild icy wind blow, 
L obey him—and wither—and die. 
“* And so, when the streamlet refuses to flow, 
And the ice on its bosom is laid— 
When the fields and the trees are all covered with 
snow, 
And the verdure of summer is dead, 
“T bow, and I tremble, and die—for I know 
That His goodness and power remain; 
And the cold winter over, again I shail grow, 
And be raised in beauty again. 
‘Tis thus, in the silence of solitude given, 
My lessons of wisdom are found, 
To please and instruct on your journey to heaven, 
’o my lonely recess on the ground.” 




















