



ETRY OF FLOWERS. 
When winter had gone and spring came back, 
‘he sensitive-plant was a 
But the mandr 
and darnels, 
Rose tike the dead from their buried charnels, 
© 
E 
fless wreck ; 
CONCLUSION. 
Whether the sensitive plant, or that 
Which within its boughs like a spirit sat, 
Ere its outward form had known decay, 
Now felt this change, I cannot say. 
Whether that lady’s gentle mind, 
No longer with the form combined, 
Which scatter'd love, as stars do light, 
Found sadness where it left delight, 

I dare not guess; buti in this life 
Of error, ignorance, and strife 
, a 
Where nothing is, but-all thing 
And we the shadows of the dream. 

It is a modest creed, and yet 
Pleasant, 

if one considers it 
’ 

q 
akes, and toadstools, and docks 




















