The floating wreath again discerned, And plunging left the shore. I saw him with that lily cropped My quick approach, and soon he dropped Charmed with the sight, the world, I cried, My dog shall mortify the pride But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives me all. THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN oyster cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell For ever in my native shell; Ordained to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease; Now in the water and now out. 'Twere better to be born a stone, I envy that unfeeling shrub, The plant he meant grew not far off, When, cry the botanists, and stare, To make them grow just where she chooses, You that are but almost a fish, And when I bend, retire, and shrink, In being touched, and crying-Don't! O'erheard and checked this idle talk, Whatever evil it endures, Deserves not, if so soon offended, Much to be pitied or commended. Disputes, though short, are far too long, You, in your grotto-work enclosed, And as for you my Lady Squeamish, Should droop and wither where they grow, His censure reached them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking showed he felt it. THE SHRUBBERY. WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION. Он, happy shades-to me unblest! And heart that cannot rest, agree! This glassy stream, that spreading pine, But fixed unalterable Care Forgoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness every where, And slights the season and the scene. For all that pleased in wood or lawn, Has lost its beauties and its powers. The saint or moralist should tread Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste THE WINTER NOSEGAY. WHAT Nature, alas! has denied To the delicate growth of our isle,. Art has in a measure supplied, And Winter is decked with a smile. See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead. 'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime,' A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime. While Earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived MUTUAL FORBEARANCE NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE. THE lady thus addressed her spouse :- |