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LOVE AND THE THISTLE.
As Cupid was flying about one day,
With the flowers and zephyrs in wanton play,
He 'spied in the air,
Floating here and there,
A winged seed of the Thistle-flower,
And merrily chased it from bower to bower.
And young Love cried to his playmates, "See,
I've found the true emblem-flower for me,
For I am as light
In my wavering flight
As this feathery star of soft Thistle-down,
Which by each of you zephyrs about is blown.
See, how from a Rose's soft warm blush
It flies, to be caught in a bramble bush;—
And as oft do I,
In my wand'rings, hie
From beauty to those who have none, I trow;
Reckless as Thistle-down, on I go."
So the sly little God still flits away
Mid earth's loveliest flow'ret's, day by day;
