210 SELECT POETRY

And now this weed, though weak, and spent
With climbing up the steep ascent,
Admired her figure tall ;
And then (for vanity ne’er ends
With that which it at first intends)
Began to laugh at those poor friends
Who helped her up the wall.
But by and by, my lady spied
The garden on the other side:
And fallen was her crest,
To see, in neat array below,
& bed of all the flowers that blow—
Lily and rose—a goodly show,
In fairest colours drest.

Recovering from her first surprise,

She soon began to criticise :—

“A dainty sight, indeed !

I’d be the meanest thing that blows

Rather than that affected Rose;

Su much perfume offends my nose,”
Exclaimed the vulgar weed.

“ Well, ’tis enough to make one chill;,
To see that pale consumptive Lily
Among these painted folks.
Miss Tulip too looks wondrous odd,
She's gaping like a dying cod ;—
What a queer stick is Golden-Rod !
And how the Violet pokes !

“Not for the gayest tint that lingers
On Honeysuckle’s rosy fingers,
Would I with her exchange :