FLOWERS. THE impatient morn, With gladness on his wings, calls forth, "Arise! While the dew sparkles yet within the violets' eyes :" And when the day In golden slumber sinks, with accent sweet Where'er the bashful flowers the observant eye may greet. Near the moist brink Of music-loving streams they ever keep, Of the mad torrent's spray, perch'd near the thundering steep : And everywhere Along the plashy marge and shallow bed The beautiful nymphæa pillows its bright head. FLOWERS. 163 Within the dell, Within the rocky clefts they love to hide ; Where the young eagle waves his wings in youthful pride. In the green sea Of forest leaves, where Nature wanton plays, Its golden chalice oft triumphantly displays; And of pure white, Embedded 'mid its glossy leaves on high, The locusts' myriad tassels scent the ambient sky. But, O ye bowers,— Ye valleys where the Spring perpetual reigns, How Fancy revels in your lovelier domains! All love the light; And yet what numbers spring within the shade, Comes unaware,—and then incontinent they fade ! And thus they bloom, And thus their lives ambrosial breathe away; Youth, beauty, flower, alike consigns to swift decay! PICKERING. THE PROGRESS OF KNOWLEDGE. FIRED at first sight with what the muse imparts, Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind; And the first clouds and mountains seem the last : POPE. THE BEAUTIES OF SPRING. I HAVE not seen the place could more surprise, Lo! the blue bind-weed doth itself unfold The balmy west-wind blows, and every sense Is soothed and courted :-trees have got their heads, The fields their coats, the dewy shining meads rose, Do boast the pansy, lily, and the BEN JONSON. THE ALPS AT DAYBREAK. THE Sunbeams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountain's brow; And chase the roebuck through the snow. ROGERS. THE DIRGE OF THE YEAR. ORPHAN hours, the year is dead, Merry hours, smile instead, For the year is but asleep : See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping. |