



234 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
HEAR T’S-EASE., 
BY MRS. SHERIDAN. 
In gardens oft a beauteous flower there grows, 
By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen ; 
In sweet serenity it humbly blows, 
And rears its purple head to deck the ereel, 
This flower, as nature’s poet sweetly sings, 
Was once milk-white, and heart’s ease w as its 
name, 
Till wanton Cupid poised its roseate wings, 
A vestal’s sacred bosom to inflame. 
With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew, 
Which she with icy coldness did repel 
Rebounding thence with featizery speed it flew, 
Till on this lonely flower, at last, it fell. 
Heart’s-ease no nicre the wandering shepher¢ 
found ; 
No more the nymphs its snowy form Possess 3 
white now changed to purple by love s wound, 
Ieart’s-ease no more,—’ tis love-in-idleness, 
Tts 
I 
