
















Tne Poetry of Flowers. 

Would’st thou that thy lot were given 1 
Thus to receive the dews of heaven, 
With heart prepared, like this meek flower? 1 
Come, then, and hail the dawning hour ; I 
So shall a blessing from on high, I 
Pure as the rain of summer's sky, 
Unsullied as the morning dew, ia 
Descend, and all thy soul imbue. : 
Yes! like the blossoms of the waste ! 
Would we the sky-born waters taste, 
To the High Fountain’s sacred spring 
The chalice let us humbly bring : 
So shall we find the streams of heaven 
To him who seeks are freely given ; ) 
The morning and the evening dew 
Shall still our failing strength renew. 
—— 
A CYPRESS LEAF: 
FOR THE GRAVE OF A DEAR ONE, 
THE feelings I have felt have died away, 
The love that was my lamp death’s dews have 
quenched ; 
The faith which, through life’s ills, ne’er knew 
decay, 
Hath in the chill showers of the grave been 
drenched ; 
The hopes that buoyed my spirit ’mid the spray 
Of life’s wild ocean, one by one are wrenched— 
Cruelly wrenched away,—and I am now 
A solitary leaf on a rent bough ! 
The link that knit me to mankind is snapped— 
Briefly it bound me to a callous world ; 
The fortress of my comfort hath been sapped— 
Where are Joy's banners, lightsomely unfurled. 
