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FLOWERS. 
" Fruitless and endless were the task, I ween, 
     With every flower to grace my votive lay; 
   And unto thee, their long acknowledged Queen, 
     Fairest and loveliest! and thy gentle sway, 
     Beautiful Rose, my homage I must pay,- 
   For how can minstrel leave thy charms unsung 
     Whose meek supremacy has been alway 
   Confess'd in many a clime, and many a tongue, 
   And in whose praise the harp of many a bard has rung ? 
" Vain were the hope to rival bards, whose lyres, 
    On such a theme, have left me nought to sing; 
  And one more plant my humble muse inspires, 
    Round which my parting thoughts would fondly cling; 
    Which, consecrate to Salem's peaceful king, 
 Though fair as any gracing beauty's bower, 
    Is linked to sorrow like an holy thing, 
 And takes its name from suff'ring's fiercest hour:- 
 Be this thy noblest fame, imperial Passion flower !" 
                                          BERNARD BARTON.