The Tulip's Petals Shine In Dew, All

Yet Nightly Pitch My Moving Tent, A Day's March Nearer Home.

A Mother's Love — How Sweet The Name! What Is A Mother's Love? — A Noble, Pure And Tender Flame, Enkindled From Above, To Bless A Heart Of Earthly Mould; The Warmest Love That Can Grow Cold; This Is A Mother's Love.

The Tulip's Petals Shine In Dew, All Beautiful, But None Alike.

While Rose-buds Scarcely Show'd Their Hue, But Coyly Linger'd On The Thorn.

Eagle Of Flowers! I See Thee Stand, And On The Sun's Noon-glory Gaze; With Eye Like His, Thy Lids Expand, And Fringe Their Disk With Golden Rays: Though Fix'd On Earth, In Darkness Rooted There, Light Is Thy Element, Thy Dwelling Air, Thy Prospect Heaven.