







THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
‘Though none us deign to bless, 
Blessed are we natheless; 
Blessed age and consecrated 
In that, Rose, we were created ! 
‘* Oh, shame to poet’s lays, 
Sung for the dole of praise— 
Hoarsely sung upon the highway, 
With an ‘‘ obolum da mihi !”’ 
‘¢ Shame ! shame to poet’s soul 
Pining for such a dole, 
When heaven-called to inherit 
The high throne of his own spirit ! 
‘*Sit still upon your thrones, 
O ye poetic ones! 
And if, sooth, the world decry you, 
Why, let that world pass by you! 
‘* Ye to yourselves suffice, 
Without its flatteries ; 
Self-contentedly approve you 
Unto Him who sits above you. 
‘Tn prayers that upward mount, 
Like to a sunned fount, 
And, in gushing back upon you, 
Bring the music they have won you! 





















