'pove, 
as all 
more 
ep} 
sects 
THE INETRY OF FLOWERS. 25 
Whose waves never mark. though they ever 
impress 
The light sand which paves it, consciousness; 
Only overhead the sweet nightingale 
Ever sang more sweet as the day might fail, 
And snatches of its Elysian chant 
Were mix’d with the dreams of the sensitive 
plant ;) 
The sensitive plant was the earliest 
Up-gather’d into the bosom of rest; 
A sweet child weary of its delight, 
The feallest and yet the favourite, 
Cradled¢ within the embrace of night. 
PART II. 
Thers was a power in this sweet place, 
An Eve in this Eden; a ruling grace 
Which to the flowers, did they waken or dream, 
Was as God is to the starry scheme: 
A lady, the wonder of her kind, 
‘Vhose form was upborne by a lovely mind, 
‘Which, dilating, had moulded her mien and mex 
tion 
ake a sea-tlavyer unfoliled beneath the ocean, 



