And the wand-like lily, which lifted up,
As a Mænad, its moonlight-color'd cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye,
Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky;
And the jessamine faint, and the sweet tuberose,
The sweetest flower for scent that blows;
And all rare blossoms from every clime
Grew in that garden in perfect prime.
ANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;
Long as there are violets,
They will have a place in story;
There's a flower that shall be mine,
'Tis the little Celandine.
Eyes of some men travel far
For the finding of a star;
Up and down the heaven they go,
Men that keep a mighty rout!
I'm as great as they, I trow,
Since the day I found thee out,
Little Flower! I'll make a stir,
Like a sage astronomer.
Modest, yet withal an Elf
Bold, and lavish of thyself;
Since we needs must first have met
I have seen thee, high and low,
Thirty years or more, and yet
'Twas a face I did not know;
Thou hast now, go where I may,
Fifty greetings in a day.
Ere a leaf is on a bush,
In the time before the thrush
Has a thought about her nest,
Thou wilt come with half a call,
Spreading out thy glossy breast
Like a careless Prodigal;
Telling tales about the sun,
When we've little warmth, or none.
Blue as the midnight heavens; the frail snowdrop,
Born of the breath of winter, and on his brow
Fixed like a pale and melancholy star;
The languid hyacinth and wild primrose,
And daisy trodden down like modesty ;
The foxglove, in whose drooping bells the bee
Makes her sweet music; the Narcissus (named
From him who died for love); the tangled woodbines,
Lilacs, and flowering limes, and scented thorns,
And some from whom the voluptuous winds of June
Catch their perfumings.
HAVE a secret to tell you,
Though you may not believe it
is true,
But a fairy whispered it to me,
And I will tell it to you.
When May wakes the grass
and the flowers,
And the birds build their nests and sing,
When the breeze blows soft, and the air
With the fresh, warm breath of spring;
The blossoms, down in the meadow,
In the gardens, and woods and the hills,
Are singing, too, with their playmates,
The birds, and the breezes and rills.
And I'll tell you what they are singing,
For I've heard them over and over,
When I've fallen asleep in the hayfields
'Mid the buttercups, daisies, and clover.
The Daisy nods, "Be cheerful;"
"Have courage," Anemone sings,
"From the cold and snow of winter
The beauty of summer springs."
"Be patient," the Violet whispers ;
The Lily breathes, "Be pure;"
"Be merry," cries Dandelion,
"'Tis the very best thing, I'm sure."
The Rose, sweet, winsome teacher,
Says softly, "Be true, be true;"
The Buttercup laughs, "Be happy ;'
Says Clover, "Be useful too!"
"Come gather the riches of thought,"
The Pansies beckon and call;
"Remember," Forget-me-not murmurs,
"Remember us each and all.”
And I think if you listen closely
In the sweet glad days of spring,
With the song of the brook, the breeze,
You can hear the flowers sing.
- Helen Isabel Moorhouse.
E has come before the daffodils,
HE The foolish and impatient bird;
The sunniest noon hath yet its chills,
The cuckoo's voice not yet is heard,
The lamb is shivering on the lea,
The cowering lark forbears to sing,
And he has come across the sea
To find a winter in the spring.
Oh! he has left his mother's home;
He thought there was a genial clime
Where happy birds might safely roam,
And he would seek that land in time.
Presumptuous one! his elders knew
The danger of these fickle skies;
Away the pleasure-seeker flew
Nipp'd by untimely frosts he dies.
Whose year is one delicious May,
And Life, beneath the brightest beams,
Flows on a gladsome holiday;
Rush to the world, unguided youth,
Prove its false joys, its friendships hollow,
Its bitter scorn, - then turn to truth,
And find a lesson in the unwise swallow.
Essayed to make a nest, and there did bring
Wet earth, and straw and leaves
Day after day she toiled
With patient art; but, ere her work was crowned, Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled,
And dashed it to the ground.
She found the ruin wrought;
But, not cast down, forth from the place she flew, And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought,
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