THE ROMANCE OF NATURE. FLOWERS. Ye are the stars of earth-ye glorious things! Deem ye, too, insects-birds without their wings. AND are they not the stars of earth? Doth not Our memory of their bright and varied forms "A beauty and a mystery" remained? And were they not to infant eyes more dear Of the o'er-orbed sky, have we not bent B 'Midst which they seem'd to look and laugh at us? Oh! I can now recall th' unthrift delight That filled my basket and my tiny hands With buttercups, that shone in burnished gold, And some, most prized, that had not yet displayed From their green hermitage, seemed as they blushed And then, the treasure housed, with what proud care And set in sunny window, with strict care That none molest our wealth. х Aye, we were rich In those young innocent days-rich in our love Of the not unveiled world-rich in our faith And every added year but makes more poor By added knowledge, childhood's guileless wealth— The wealth of an unblighted unchilled soul. FLOWERS never lose their charm. See a child working in his little plot When older grown, Of garden ground; and, if you chance to stand, |