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HERBERT PRICE.
v.
Beauty born of winds and suns,
Lithe strength of storms and showers,
She gathered nature's graces once
Who sleeps beneath the flowers.
vi.
The peaks that pierce the deepest hue
Though lofty, free, and still,
Shine with no light of quickening dew
Like lowly vale and hill.
vii.
Roses from polluted soil
Draw delicious odours forth,
So doth virtue's secret toil
Sweeten noisome dens of earth.
viii.
The flower that on the arid rock
Shows all her rich attire,
Is like the face that smiles to mock
Fate's fell and fierce desire.
Herbert Price.
