


110 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
Yet is not life, in its real flight, 
Mark’d thus—even thus—on earth, 
By the closing of one hope’s delight, 
And another’s gentle birth ? 
Oh! let us live so that flower by flower, 
Shutting in turn, may leave 
A lingerer still for the sunset hour, 
A charm for the shaded eve. 
—_o——. 
SPRING FLOWERS. 
BY SHAKSPEARE. 
Daffodils 
That come before the swallow dares, end take 
lhe winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes, | 
Or Cytherea’s breath ; pale primroses, 
Phat die unmarried, ere they can behold 
Bright Pheebus in his strength ; 
Bold oxlips, and 
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, 
The flower-de-luce heing one. 


















Daist 
Binbi 


