
2s 
THE FOETRY OF FLOWERS. 
There may be gaudier on the bower, 
And statelier on the tree; 
But wall-flower, loved wall-flower, 
Thou art the flower for me! 
ae gees 
THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER, 
BY T. MOORE. 
"Tis the last rose of summer 
Left blooming alone, 
All her lovely companions 
Are faded and gone; 
No flower of her kindred, 
No rose-bud is nigh, 
To reflect back her blushes 
And give sigh for sigh. 
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, 
To pine on the stem ; 
Since the lovely are sleeping, 
Go sleep thou with them. 
Thus kindly I scatter 
Thy leaves on the bed, 
Where thy mates of the garden 
lie scentless and dead. 
So soon may I tollow 
When friendships decay, 
And from love’s shining circle 
The gems drop away: 


























