Classic Poem

BY H ARRIET F ALCONAR .

How fair the prospect opens to the eye,
Where Flora's pencil marks the gay dress'd ground;
Where art and nature, emulative, vie
To scatter rival beauties all around.

What vivid colours flush yon blooming rose,
Whose fragance floats upon the balmy gale!
Queen of each flow'r, that summer's hand bestows,
From the fair lily to the primrose pale.

That lily blooms, in snow-white charms array'd,
Yon lilac too, how sweet it scents the air!
The gay carnation's lively bloom's display'd,
To imitate the cheek of Jessy fair.

The flow'ry pomp the beauteous larkspurs share,
While mix'd with roses in that shelt'ring bower;
The fragrant woodbines quiver in the air,
Distilling fragrance on some humbler flower.

With colours which these flow'ry tribes adorn,
Say, can the artist's boasted skill compare?
No, Nature paints the crimson blush of morn,
And forms these flow'rs inimitably fair!