THE GERANIUM PLANT.
Hold up thy head, thou timid voyager!
Vex'd by the storm-clouds as they darkly roll,
And by the fiercely tossing waves that stir
Thy slender root, and try thy gentle soul,—
Sad change from thy sweet garden, where the dew
Each morning glistened in thy grateful eye,
And where the roughest guest thy bosom knew
Were busy bee or gadding butterfly:
It grieves me sore to see thy beauties fade,
Wearing the plague-spot of the sickening spray,
And know what trouble I for thee have made;
Yet still bear on, meek partner of my way,
For in thy life I hold the flowery chain
Of home and its delights,—here, on the lonely main.
Poor little companion! tossed up and down, till thou art almost shaken out of thy scanty vase of earth, how sorry I am for thee. True sympathies there are between us, in this matter of pining heartache. I fear thou wilt be a martyr to the constancy with which thou hast followed me. Thou dost not like this never-rest-
