




THE POETR 

OF FLOWERS. 
THE ROSES. 
BY BOWRING. 
I saw them once blowing, 
While morning was glowing ; 
But now are their wither’d leaves strew’d o’er the 
ground, 
For ¢empests to play on, 
For cold worms to prey on, 
The shame of the garden that triumphe around. 
Their buds which then flourish’d, 
With dew-drops were nourish’d, 
Which turn’d into pearls as they fell from.on high 
Their hues are all banish’d, 
Their fragrance all vanish’d, 
Ere evening a shadow has cast from the sky. 
I saw, too, whoie races 
Of glories and graces 
Ihus open and blossom, but quickly decay ; 
And smiling and gladness, 
In sorrow and sadness, 
Ere life reach’d its twilight, fade dimly away. 

