And the glorious rose with her flushing face,
And the fuschia with her form of grace,
The balsam bright, and the lupin's crest,
That weaves a roof for the firefly's nest;
The myrtle clusters, and dahlia tall,
The jessamine fairest among them all;
And the tremulous lips of the lily's bell,
Join in the music we love so well."
"But startle ye not when the tempests blow?
Have you no dread of a wily foe?
Do you not tremble, when the serpents hiss
Mid leaves that the zephyr alone should kiss?
Lady, the bells of the fainting flowers
Close at the coming of thunder showers;
The branches and tendrils merrily dance
At the whirlwind's cry, and the lightning's glance.
We dread not to see the snake's back of gold?
Dart through the lilacs or marigold,
For fears that dwell in the human breast,
Find in the heart of flowers no rest.
We have no fears when we hear thee pass
Over the fold of the tangled grass,
We have no dread when we hear thee breathe
Over the flowers we love to wreathe,
Nor tremble when night falls from heaven above,
And nature is stillness and earth is love;
We steal from thy keeping when summer is o'er,
And wait thee where flowers can die no more."
The Cities of Old.
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