






The Poetry of Flowers. 

To be snatched up in transport! And we fed 
Upon affection’s banquet, that ne'er palled 
Upon the spirit’s palate! Friendship shed 
A light around our bosoms, which recalled 
The memory of that bard whose soul was wed— 
With love surpassing woman’s love, ungalled 
By selfish doubts—to him, the monarch’s son, 
Brave Jonathan! Like theirs, our souls were one, 
Oh! long we loved in silence! Neither spake 
Of that which worked the thoughtful mine within ; 
Thou didst not guess that, sleeping or awake, 
My thoughts were full of thee till thought grew 
For it zs sin of earthly things to make [sin : 
Our idols; and I never hoped to win 
Thy coveted affection ; but for me, 
Thy heart was also yearning silently ! 
I was the first to speak—and words there were, 
Wild words, that painted fond affection’s course ; 
Oh! what indeed will erring tongues not dare, 
When conquering Feeling prompts! Like winds 
that force 
From wind-harps mystic sounds, the lips declare 
Thoughts that are often followed by remorse ; 
For passion hath a potency that breaks 
Each puny bulwark callous Reason makes ! 
But ours was Friendship’s purest worship— pure, 
Altho’ that worship bowed at earthly shrines ; 
Alas! that hearts on altars insecure 
Should sacrifice their a// of bliss! There twines 
O’er mankind's sweetest hopes corruption sure, 
To blast their beauty e’en whilst most it shines! 
"Tis but to teach us there are worlds above, 
Where Hope fruition finds in endless Love | 
oo 

































