TO THE NARCISSUS. Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo, rise; Here, by this fountain, where thy love did pine, ECHO. His name revives, and lifts me up from earth; Why did the gods give thee a heavenly form, O hadst thou known the worth of Heaven's rich gift, And not (with starved and covetous ignorance) THE ROSE. Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, In deserts where no men abide, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share Yet, though thou fade, From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise; That goodness Time's rude hand defies; EDMUND WALLER, 1605-1687. ANCIENT SERVIAN SONG. O my fountain, so fresh and cool, Why art thou blown out so early? If I plucked thee for my brother- If I plucked thee for my lover— Far away, o'er three green mountains, Far away, o'er three cool fountains! Translated by TALVI. TO BLOSSOMS. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile, What were ye born to be, An hour or half's delight, But you are lovely leaves, where we Like you awhile they glide, ROBERT HERRICK, 1591. CHILDREN'S POSIES. 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 appearance of a beautiful vernal flowering dwarf shrub, and as long as it remains fresh is an object of surprise and delight. J. L. KNAPP. LOVE'S WREATH. When Love was a child, and went idling round O'erhead from the trees hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath; 'Twas pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there, But Love did not know-and at his weak years, What urchin was likely to know ?— That sorrow had made of her own salt tears, That fountain which murmur'd below. He caught at the wreath, but with too much haste, As boys when impatient will do ; It fell in those waters of briny taste, And the flowers were all wet through. Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day; And though it all sunny appears With Pleasure's own luster, each leaf, they say, TO DAFFODILS. Fair daffodils, we weep to see As yet, the early-rising sun Has not attain'd its noon. THOMAS MOORE. |