

The Right-llowering Cerews. 
Anon, 

None departs day’s garish light— 
Beauteous flower, lift thy head! 
Rise upon the brow of night! 
Haste, thy transient lustre shed! 
Night has dropped her dusky veil— 
All vain thoughts be distant far, 
While, with silent awe, we hail 
Flora’s radiant evening star. 
See to life her beauties start ; 
Hail, thou glorious, matchless flower ! 
Much thou sayest to the heart 
In the solemn, fleeting hour. 
Hre we have our homage paid, 
Thou wilt bow thine head and die; 
Thus our swectest pleasures fade, 
Thus our brightest blessings fly. 


