

THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 53 
Gorgeous flowerets in the sunlight shiring, 
Blossoms flaunting im the eye of day, 
Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining, 
Buds that open only to decay; 
Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues, 
Flaunting gaily in the golden light ; 
Large desires, with most uncertain issues, 
Tender wishes. blossoming at night! 
These in flowers and men are more than seeming 
Workings are they of the self-same powers, 
Which the poet, in no idle dreaming, 
Seeth in himself and in the flowers. 
Every where about us are they glowing, 
Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born; 
Others, their blue eyes with tears o’erflowing, 
Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn; 
Not alone in Spring’s armorial bearing, 
And in Summer’s green-emblazoned field, 
Bat in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing, 
In the centre of his brazen shield ; 
Not alone in meadows and green alleys, 
On the mountain-top, and by the brink 
Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys, 
Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink: 








