





THE POETRY OF FiOWERS. 
The river’s touch’d with glowing light, 
And rolls, a crimson flood ; 
While heaven’s blush has lent its hues 
Unto the leafy wood. 
Still, are you folded to your dreams ? 
Bright must those visions be, 
If they surpass the gorgeousness 
Of evening’s pageantry! 
Good night! the stars are gemming heaven, 
And seem like angel’s eyes, 
Resuming now their silent watch 
Within the far-off skies ; 
They nightly on their burning thrones 
Like guardian spirits, keep 
Familiar vigil o’er the world, 
Wrapt in its solemn sleep ; 
And tenderly they gaze on us, 
Those children of the air, 
While every ray they send to us, 
Some message seems to bear, 
That stirs us to the inmost core ; 
And we do thrill beneath their beams, 
And start, and tremble, wildly, like 
Ambition in his dreams. 
Now, lo! you burst your emerald bonds 
And ope your languid eyes, 
And spread your loveliness before 
Those dwellers of the skies; 

