OH! let not gems or woven gold That lightly shades thy bosom fair. Who ever hangs the simple rose With glittering gems or golden threads? Deepens with paint the blush that glows On every leaf? or perfume sheds To scent the flower of love which fragrance flings, Wherever Zephyr waves his golden wings? Nor a plant, a leaf, a flower, but contains THOUGHTS. Lquch. How comes a thought? Which falls not in a visible drop, How unfolds a thought? As a bud of spring, Which in itself contains a branch, A bough on which a happy bird How abides a thought? As a heavenly star, Which, seen by us but not controll'd, Burns in its sphere; Veiled often, but by passing clouds, Our own eye near. Hath a thought voice? Whose melody in a dusky wood, Spreading like brightness from a lamp, Will a thought leave us? Even as the moon Which from fullest beauty failing, Doth thought propagate? Whose expression the soul changes, There are sudden lights, a slow dawn, FROM FLORA AND THE FLOWERS.' Lyurh. FLORA! beautiful and wise, Skilled in human mysteries, Hearts there are to hymn thy praises, Many and lowly as the daisies- With half-hidden blossoming. The little one, too early blest, Oh! gather from the rough hill-side Strong as the hill, its flower as pure. Nature is the robe of God- The green earth has its flower, the sky- And whilst it still blossoms bright and high, Work, Flora! then, rejoicingly, GOD'S STRENGTH. Bowring. His strength nor perishing tongue can tell, The ocean to him is a dew drop small, And mountains an atom of sand, And the sun, and the stars, and this earthly ball Are dust in his mighty hand. And how can a Being so great as he Which will find its way to heaven. |