FLOWERS FOR THE HEART. BY E. ELLIOTT. FLOWERS! winter flowers!-the child is dead, The mother cannot speak : O softly couch his little head, Amid those curls of flaxen hair How like a form in cold white stone, Look, Mother, on thy little one! She cannot weep, more faint she grows, Flowers! oh, a flower! a winter rose, Go, search the fields! the lichen wet Peeps not a snowdrop in the bower, Yes, lay the daisy's little head O haste! the last of five is dead! THE AMARANTH. CROWNS inwove with Amaranth and gold, Began to bloom; but soon, for man's offence, grows And flowers aloft, shading the Fount of Life, And where the River of Bliss, through midst of Heaven, Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream; THE WALL-FLOWER BY D. M. MOIR. The wall-flower-the wall-flower, Around the wrecks of time;- Flower of the solitary place! Time's canker-tooth hath made. Whither hath fled the choral band In the belfry's crevices, the dove Her young brood nurseth well, Whilst thou, lone flower! dost shed above A sweet decaying smell. In the season of the tulip cup, And scent thee on the breeze! The bee is on the wing, And on the hawthorn by the road Sweet wall-flower-sweet wall-flower! Full many a soft and sunny hour Of boyhood's thoughtless glee; When joy from out the daises grew In woodland pastures green, And summer skies were far more blue Now autumn's pensive voice is heard The robin is the regal bird, And thou the queen of flowers! And Araby ne'er gave the breeze Rich is the pink, the lily gay,' The rose is summer's guest; Bland are thy charms when these decayOf flowers, first, last, and best! There may be gaudier on the bower, But wall-flower, loved wall-flower, THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. BY T. MOORE. 'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone, And give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves on the bed, So soon may I follow When friendships decay, |