104
VOICE OF FLOWERS.
EVENING FLOWERS.
When shuts the rose at even tide,
The lily folds its bell,
And every bud on vale or wild,
Dream in their hermit cell.
Then, neath still twilight, dim and grey,
Or where the taper stands,
Or meekly by the fireside ray,
The flower of heart expands.
The influence of this favoring hour
The watchful lover knows,
And marks its soft mimosa leaves
Their modest charms disclose.
The husband by its fragrance cheer'd,
Unlocks the cares of day,
Which, neath the warm, confiding smile,
Like shadows, fleet away.
