
BY MISS STRICKLAND. 
Sweet lavender! I love thy flower 
Of meek and acdast blue, 
Which meets the morn and evenin g h 
The storm, the sunshine, and the shower 
And changeth not its hue. 
In cottage-maid’s parterre thou’rt seen, 
In simple touching grace ; 
And in the garden of the queen, 
” Midst costly plants and blossoms sheen, 
Thou also hast a place. 
The rose, with bright and peerless bloorr 
Attracted many eyes; 
But while her glories and perfume 
Expire before brief summer’ s doom, 
Thy fragrance ne i 
‘hou art not like 
Our see 
Who, in t e day 
Are found a alt 
Fe or thou dos 



