Nor odor-bearing urns, are there,
When the west wind sighs through its boughs,
Let me inhale the balmy air!

The stately PALM in conscious pride
Lifts its tall column to the sky,
While round it fragrant air-plants cling,
Deep-stained with every gorgeous dye.

Linger with me a moment, where
The LOCUST trembles in the breeze,
In soft, transparent verdure drest,
Contrasting with the darker trees.

The humming-bird flies in among
Its boughs, with pure white clusters hung,
And honey-bees come murmuring, where
Its perfume on the air is flung.

A noble LAUREL meets our gaze,
Ere yet we leave these alleys green.
'Mongst many stately, fair, and sweet,
The DAPHNE ODORA stands a queen.

May 2, 1853.




AUNT MOLLY.