
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 63 

THE EVENING PRII 
| BY G. LANGHORNE. 
| Turrk are that love tie shades of ae i 
| And shun the splendid walks of far 
There are that hold it rueful strife | 
To risk Ambition’s losing game ; 
That far from envy’s lurid eye 
The fairest Se ts of genius rear, | 
Content to see them bloom and die 4 
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|| In friendship’s small but kindly sphere. 

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| Than vainer flowers, though sweeter far, 
| The Evening Primrose st day ; 
ne Evening Primrose shuns the day ; 
} Blooms only to the western star, 
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And loves its solitary ray. 
At the dim’s twilight’s closing hour, 
On his time-smoothed staff reclined, 
With wonder view’d the opening floweg. 
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rf In Eden’s vale an aged hind, 
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| ‘‘ Tj]-fated flower, at eve to blow,’’ 
(In eos simple thought he cries,) 

* ‘Thy bosom must not feel the glow | 
Of sple nil d stins, or smiling skies. | 
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ag. | | 
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tL al ee ro re Se 


