
YAE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 15° 
And musing by love’s 
Harth’s ‘* river-o 
To see how swee tly 
Is mirror’d on tts bre 
And feel thou, there, art nearer far 
To that bright land of sun and star! || 

a 
|| THE ALPINE FLOWERS. 
BY MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
Mezrx dwellers ’mid yon terror-stricken cliffs! 
|| With brows so pure, and incense-breathing lips, 
| Whence are ye ?—Did some white-wing’d mes 
| senger 
|| On Mercy’s missions trust your timid germ 
| To the cold cradle of eternal snows ? 
Or, breathing on the callous icicles, 
Bid them with tear-drops nurse ye ?— 
—Tree nor shrub 
Dare that drear atmosphere: no polar pine 
Uprears a veteran front; yet there ye stand, 
Leaning your cheeks Sescee the thick-ribb’d ice 
And looking up with brilliant eyes to Him || 
Who bids you bloom unblanch’ ES ee ge waste i 
olation. 
aoe 
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