A FLOWER GARDEN,

Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,

While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,

Pinions that fanned the teeming mould

Of Eden's blissful wilderness,

Did only softly-stealing hours

There close the peaceful lives of flowers?

Say, when the moving creatures saw

All kinds commingled without fear,

Prevailed a like indulgent law

For the still growths that prosper here?

Did wanton fawn and kid forbear

The half-blown rose, the lily spare?

Or peeped they often from their beds

And prematurely disappeared,

Devoured like pleasure ere it spreads

A bosom to the sun endeared?

If such their harsh untimely doom,

It falls not here on bud or bloom.

All summer-long the happy Eve

Of this fair Spot her flowers may bind,

Nor e'er, with ruffled fancy, grieve,

From the next glance she casts, to find

That love for little things by Fate

Is rendered vain as love for great.

Yet, where the guardian fence is wound,

So subtly are our eyes beguiled

We see not nor suspect a bound,

No more than in some forest wild;

The sight is free as air — or crost

Only by art in nature lost.

And, thoughthe jealous turf refuse

By random footsteps to be prest,

And feedon never-sullied dews,

Ye, gentle breezes from the west,

With all the ministers of hope

Are tempted to this sunny slope!

And hither throngs of birds resort;

Some, inmates lodged in shady nests,

Some, perched on stems of stately port

That nod to welcome transient guests;

While hare and leveret, seen at play,

Appear not more shut out than they.

Apt emblem ( for reproof of pride )

This delicate Enclosure shows

Of modest kindness, that would hide

The firm protection she bestows;

Of manners, like its viewless fence,

Ensuring peace to innocence.

Thus spake the moral Muse — her wing

Abruptly spreading to depart,

She left thatfarewell offering,

Memento for some docile heart;

That may respect the good old age

When Fancy was Truth's willing Page;

And Truth would skim the flowery glade,

Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.