GLYNN. Behold the mighty murderers of mankind; The childless mother, at the judgment-seat Plead trumpet-tongued against them. The bard his glory ne'er receives, Where summer's common flowers are seen, But winter finds it, when she leɛ ves The laurel only green; And time, from that eternal trea CHASE. On a Leaf from the Tomb of Virgil. MRS. HEMANS. And was thy home, pale, withered thing, Wert thou a nursling of the spring, Those suns in golden light e'en now, Those winds are breathing soft, but thou, Answering their whisper, there no more shal wave. The flowers, o'er Posilippo's brow, Thy place is void; oh! none on earth, Save that which souls of loftiest birth Leave, when they part their brighter home to gain. Another leaf, ere now, hath sprung On the green stem which once was thine; When shall another strain be sung Like his whose dust hath made that spot a shrine? FLOWERS. MARY HOWITT. Buttercups and daisies - Spring up here and there. Ere the snowdrop peepeth, Somewhere on a sunny bank Buttercups are bright; Somewhere 'mong the frozen grase Peeps the daisy white. Little hardy flowers, Like the children poor, Playing in their sturdy health By their mother's door; Purple with the north wind, Yet alert and bold; Fearing not and caring not, Though they be a cold. What to them is weather? Are these human flowers? Give them likewise hardy strength, And patient hearts to bear. Welcome yellow buttercups, Coming in the spring-time, Who doeth all things well. THE CROCUS'S SOLILOQUY MISS H. F. GOULD. Down in my solitude under the snow, I will not despair, nor be idle, nor frown. My leaves shall run up and my roots shall run down Soon as the frost will get out of my bed, Gayly arrayed in my yellow and green, Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower, Patient to-day, through its gloomiest hour We come out the brighter to-morrow! |