
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 

























Al] weak and wan with head inclined, 
Js parent breast the drifted snow, 
It trembles, while the ruthless wind 
| Bends its slim form; the tempest lowers, 
| Its emerald eye drops crystal showers 
Onits cold bed below. 
Where’er I find thee, gentle flower, 
Thou still art sweet and dear to me’ 
For I have known the cheerless hour, 
Have seen the sunbeams cold and pale, 
Have felt the chilling wintry gale, 
And wept and shrunk, like thee! 
DAFFODILS. 
| Farr Daffodils, we weep to see 
You haste away so soon; 
As yet the early rising sun | 
Has not attained his noon: | 
| Stay, stay 
Until the hastening day 
Has run 
But to the even-song, 
And, having pray’d together, we 
Will go wish vou alon; 

