SONNET.—FLOWERS.
BY WM. ALEXANDER.
WINTER scarce o'er, as messenger of Spring,
Walks forth bright Snowdrop, clad in green and white,
Which simple beauties every eye delight,
Till Violet scents the gale and Bluebirds sing;
Come now the Windflower and the Tulip tall,
And Naiad Lily of the lowly vale,
The lover's flower, which is true passion pale;
Up, next, Narcissus springs, more fair than all,
Reflecting in the brook, that purls anigh,
Her image, and, like Echo, hastes to die;
Then the sweet lady Rose, at Zephyr's call,
Like nymph, comes forth to show her glowing breast,
While Flora holds her proudest carnival,
And yields the palm to her, as queen of all the rest.