7 JUNE 1879, Page 17

POETRY.

WALL-FLOWERS.

WHERE the Wall-flowers grow, Many come and go; Rich and poor men pass, Lover, too, and lass ; Children at their play, Heads careworn and gray.

Nought of all that go Do the wall-flowers know ; Yet their perfumes reach To the heart of each,— Win one moment's share In each passer there.

Droop thy head, and go, Poet, from the show ; Man thou art, not flower, Decade liv'st, not hour, Reason halt, and will, Sympathy and skill.

Yet what canst thou know More of all that go ?

Could thy verse but reach To the heart of each, As the wall-flowers' scent, What were thy content ! F. W. B.