
FLORA’S ALBUM. 

Crocus. 


«On many a desolating pile, 
Brightening decay with beauty’s smile.” — BARTON. 



CHEERFULNESS.—SMILES. 

Oh! why delight to wrap the soul 
In pall of fancied sadness? 
°T were best be merry while we live, 
And paint our cheeks with gladness. 
What if hope tells a “‘ flattering tale,” 
And mocks us by deceiving, 
*T is better far to be content: 
There ’s nothing made by grieving. 









The girls, Heaven bless their precious souls! 
Are thick as bees about us ; 
And every mother’s son well knows, — 
They could not do without us: 
They ’re dangerous though to meddle with, 
For they too are deceiving ; 
They ’ll win and laugh, then flirt you, — yet 
There’s nothing made by grieving. 

LAWRENCE LABREE. 






