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Such as she is, who died to-day,
Such I, alas! may be to-morrow; Go, Damon, bid the Muse display The justice of thy Chloe's sorrow.
MATTHEW Prior, 166+-1721.
FILLED WITH MORXING DKW.
Why do ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears
Speak grief in you,
Who were but born
Just as the modest morn
Teem'd her refreshing dew!
That mars a flower;
Nor felt the unkind
Breath of a blasting wind;
Who think it strange to see
Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known
The reason why
Ye droop and weep;
Is it for want of sleep,
Or childish lullaby?
Or brought a kiss
From that sweetheart to this?
Would have this lecture read:
ROBERT HERRICK, 1591.
TO THE NARCISSUS.
Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo, rise ;
His name revives, and lifts me up from earth;
Ben Jonsox, 1574-1637. THE ROSE.
Go, lovely rose !
That now she knows,
Tell her that's young,
That hadst thou sprung
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die, that she
May read in thee ;
Yet, though thou fade,
And teach the maid
EDMUND WALLEE, 1605-1687.
ANCIENT SERVIAN SONG.
O my fountain, so fresh and cool,
If I plucked thee for my brother-
Translated by TALVI.
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast ?
Your date is not so past
And go at last.
What were ye born to be,
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night:
And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave;
ROBERT HERRICK, 1591.
FROM * JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST."
The amusements and fancies of children, when connected with flowers, are always pleasing, being generally the conceptions of innocent minds unbiased by artifice or pretense ; and their love of them seems to spring from a genuine feeling and admiration-a kind of sympathy with objects as fair as their own untainted minds; and I think it is early flowers which constitute their first natural playthings; though summer presents a greater number and variety, they are not so fondly selected. We have our daisies strung and wreathed about our dress; our coronals of orchises and primroses, our cowslip balls, etc.; and one application of flowers at this season I have noticed, which, though perhaps it is local, yet it has a remarkably pretty effect, forming, for the time, one of the gayest little shrubs that can be seen. A small branch or long spray of the whitethorn, with all its spines uninjured, is selected; and on these, its alternate thorns, a white and blue violet, plucked from their stalks, are stuck upright in succession, until the thorns are covered, and when placed in a flower-pot of moss, it has perfectly the appear. ance of a beautiful vernal flowering dwarf shrub, and as long as it remains fresh is an object of surprise and delight.
J. L. KXAPP.
When Love was a child, and went idling round
Among flowers the whole summer's day,
So sweet, it allured him to stay.
O’erhead from the trees hung a garland fair,
A fountain ran darkly beneath ;
Love knew it and jump'd at the wreath.
But Love did not know-and at his weak years,
What urchin was likely to know ?-
That fountain which murmur'd below.
He caught at the wreath, but with too much haste,
As boys when impatient will do ;
And the flowers were all wet through.
Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day ;
And though it all sunny appears
Fair daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
Has not attain'd its noon.