We cannot trace the hidden BOE 
Which folds thine azure petal a 
When evening shadows dimly o ver, 
And dew-drops gem each floweret’s cup, 
Methinks I should not wish to be 
Like thee, a votary of the sun, 
To bask beneath his beams, yet flee 
W hene’er his brilliant race is run. 
O dearer far the silent night, 
And lovelier far the star-lit sky, 
Than gaudy day with sunbeams bright, 
And loud with nature’s minstrelsy. 
The night-bird’s song is not for thee, 
The beautiful, the silver moon, 
The holy calm o’er flowers and tree; 
The stillness—nature’s dearest boon. 
Thou art a reveller of day, 
A fair, rejoicing child eee 
Glad, while the sunbeams o’er thee play, 
But drooping in the quiet ni ih ts 
Like unto those who freely spend 
Their kindness in our happier hours 
But should affliction want a friend, 
They prove the sun’s adoring flowers. 


