


















THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 219 
)W an 
i THE EVENING PRIMROSE. tia 
BY BERNARD BARTON. 
Farr flower, that shunn’st the glare of day, 
Yet levest to open, meekly bold. 
To evening hues of sober gray, 
Thy cup of paly gold ; 
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eg! 
Be thine the offering, owing long, 
To thee, and to this pensive hour, 
Of the brief tributary song, 
Though transient as thy flower. 
dat 
sky, I love to watch at silent eve 
Thy scatter’d blossoms’ lonely light ; 
| And have my inmost heart receive | 
The influence of that sight. aay 

I love, at such an hour, to mark, 
Their beauty greet the light breeze chill, Saab 
ps And shine, ’mid shadows gathering dark, ith 
| The garden’s glory still. 
f'or such, ‘tis sweet to think the while, 
When cares and griefs the breast invade fae 
In friendship’s animating smile, bia 
In sorrow’s dark’ning shade. 

