AN AWFUL OUTLOOK.
(For "Love in the Arbour.")
A Darwinite tells us some flowers can see! This adds a new terror to botany. For lovers, and ladies, will surely agree Blossoms' tongues could tell tales—had they got any: The Fat Boy in Pickwick, an Arbour-eaves-dropper, To amorous "spoons" was a terror; But flowers with eyes for what Aunts call "improper"? That is a look-out, and no error! 'Tis climbers and parasites chiefly, we're told, Who're gifted with optical powers. Well nymphs will be roguish, and swains will be bold, Notwithstanding inquisitive—flowers! The Virgin, no doubt, will invite the sly kiss, Despite the Virginian Creeper; And Corydon clasp in the moonlight sweet miss Though Convolvulus play Tom the Peeper. But should science discover that blossoms can speak, And tell tales about bower-hid passion; I'll wager it wouldn't be more than a week, Before flowers would go out of fashion! One prospect at least this new doctrine discovers: Did eyes and glib tongues fill our bowers, The man whom a maiden deems "flower of lovers," Would no more be lover of flowers