





















260 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Silv’ry bud, thy pensile foliage 
Seems the angry blasts to fear ; 
Yet secure, thy tender texture 
Ornaments the rising year. 
No warm tints, or vivid colouring, 
Paint thy bells with gaudy pride ; 
Mildly charm’d we seek thy fragrance, 
Where no thorns insidious hide. 
Tis not thine, with flaunting beauty, 
To attract the roving sight ; 
Nature from her varied wardrobe, 
Chose thy vest of purest white. 
White a» falls the fleecy shower, 
Thy soft form in sweetness grows; 
Not more fair the valley’s treasure, 
Not more sweet her lily blows. 
Drooping harbinger of Flora, 
Simply are thy blossoms drest ; 
Artless as the gentle virtues 
Mansion’d in the blameless breast. 
When to pure and timid virtue 
Friendship twines a votive wreath, 
Q’er the fair selected garland 
Thou thy perfume soft shalt breathe. 

Coe 
tr Supo 
First 
Reason. 
Agair 
But if, i 
By gr 
Ter for 
That | 
Though 
By wi 
Por Once 
May s 
We roar 
Some | 
e rear 
As me 
We soar 
Our lif 
Unto the 
