THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 14 
A crowd of leaves enriching bloom! 
And mine through life the sweet perfume, 
And all the thousand hues. 
CAPTIVE. 
The pink can no one justly slight, 
The gard’ner’s favourite flower ; 
He sets it now beneath the light, 
Now shields it from its power. 
Yet ’tis not pomp, who o’er the rest 
In splendour shines, can make me blest ; 
It is a still, small flower. 
VIOLET. 
I stand conceal’d, and bending low, 
And do not love to speak ; 
Yet will I, as ’tis fitting now, 
My wonted silence break. 
For if ’tis I, thou gallant man, 
Thy heart desires, thine, if I can, 
My perfumes all I’ll make. 
CAPTIVE, 
The violet I esteem indeed, 
So modest and so kind ; 
Its fragrance sweet yet more I need, 
To soothe mine anguish’d mind. 
To you the truth will I confess : 
Here, ’mid this rocky dreariness, 
My love T ne’er shall find. 
lu 


