24 MARCH 1855, Page 11

FLOWERS IN THE CRIMEA.

"The tents are turned to gardens "—sweet spring-flowers

Like children gaze for the first time on death : They start in smiling wonder from beneath

The thunderbolts piled up by warring Powers :

They crowd the mounds where sleep those Fallen of ours, Like fairies, to embalm in innocent breath

Stern hearts whose free-born valour covereth

With alien splendour you tyrannic towers. Can sweetness mingle thus with groans and wrath ? Oh! if the gardener, Nature, comes so quick To smoeth the horrors of Destruction's path, Will not soft consolations bloom as thick At home, amongst the ruins of each life Whose all was risked and lost in its 'own England's strife , Whose all was risked and lost in its 'own England's strife ,

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