FLORA'S PARTY.
Lady Flora gave cards for a party at tea,
To flowers, buds and blossoms of every degree;
So from town and from country they thronged at the call,
And strove by their charms to embellish the hall.
First came the exotics, with ornaments rare,
The tall Miss Corcoris, and Cyclamen fair,
Auricula, splendid with jewels new set,
And gay Polyanthus, the pretty coquette.
The Tulips came flounting in gaudy array,
With Hyacinths bright as the eye of the day;
Dandy Coxcombs and Daffodils, rich and polite,
With their dazzling new vests and their corsets laced tight,
While the Soldiers in Green, cavalierly attired,
Were all by the ladies extremely admired.
But prudish Miss Lily, with bosom of snow,
Declared that "the officers stared at her so,
'Twas excessively rude," so retired in a fright,
And scarce paused to bid Lady Flora good night.
There were Myrtles and Roses from garden and plain,
And Venus's Fly-trap they brought in their train;
So the beaux clustered round them, they scarcely knew why,
At each smile of the lip, or each glance of the eye.
Madame Damask complained of her household and care,
How she seldom went out even to breathe the fresh air;
There were so many young ones and servants to stray,
And the thorns grew so fast if her eye was away:
"Neighbour Moss Rose," said she, "you who live like a queen,
And scarce wet your fingers, do'nt know what I mean:"
So that notable lady went on with her lay,
Till the auditors yawned and stole softly away.
The sweet Misses Woodbine, from country and town,
With their brother-in-law, Colonel Trumpet, came down;
And Lupine, whose azure-eye sparkled with dew,
On Amaranth leaned, the unchanging and true,
While modest Clematis appeared as a bride,
And her husband, the Lilac, ne'er moved from her side,
Though the belles giggled loudly and vowed "'twas a shame,
For a young married chit such attention to claim;
They never attended a rout in their life,
Where a city-bred gentleman spoke to his wife."
Mrs Piony came in quite late, in a heat,
With the Ice-plant, new spangled from forehead to feet;
Lobelia, attired like a queen in her pride,
And the Dahlias, with trimmings new-furbished and dyed;
And the Blue-bells and Hare-bells, in simple array,
With all their Scotch cousins from highland and brae.
Ragged Ladies and Marigolds clustered together,
And gossiped of scandal, the news, and the weather—
What dresses were worn at the wedding so fine
Of sharp Mr. Thistle and sweet Columbine;
Of the loves of Sweet William and Lily the prude,
Till the clamours of Babel again seemed renewed.
In a snug little nook sate the Jessamine pale,
And that pure fragrant Lily, the gem of the vale;
The meek Mountain-daisy, with delicate crest,
And the Violet, whose eye told the heaven in her breast;
While allured to their group were the wise ones who bowed
To that virtue which seeks not the praise of the crowd.
But the proud Crown Imperial, who wept in her heart
That modesty gained of such homage a part,
Looked haughtily down on their innocent mien,
And spread out her gown that they might not be seen.
The bright Lady-slippers and Sweet-briars agreed
With their slim cousin Aspens a measure to lead;
And sweet 'twas to see their light footsteps advance
Like the wing of the breeze through the maze of the dance;
But the Monk's-hood scowled dark, and in utterance low,
Declared "'twas high time for good Christians to go;
He'd heard from his parson a sermon sublime,
Where he proved from the Vulgate—to dance was a crime."
So folding a cowl round his cynical head,
He took from the side-board a bumper and fled.
A song was desired, but each musical flower
Had "taken a cold, and 'twas out of her power;"
Till sufficiently urged, they burst forth in a strain
Of quavers and thrills that astonished the train.
Mimosa sat shrinking, and said with a sigh—
"'Twas so fine, she was ready with rapture to die:"
And Cactus, the grammar-school tutor, declared
"It might be with the gamut of Orpheus compared:"
But Night-shade, the metaphysician, complained
That "the nerves of his ears were excessively pained;
'Twas but seldom he crept from the college, he said,
And he wished himself safe in his study or bed."
There were pictures whose splendour illumined the place,
Which Flora had finished with exquisite grace:
She had dipped her free pencil in Nature's pure dies,
And Aurora re-touched with fresh purple the skies.
So the grave connoisseurs hasted near them to draw,
Their knowledge to show by detecting a flaw.
The Carnation took her eye-glass from her waist,
And pronounced they were "scarce in good keeping or taste."
While prim Fleur de Lis, in her robe of French silk,
And magnificent Calla, with mantle like milk,
Of the Louvre recited a wonderful tale,
And said "Guido's rich tints made dame Nature turn pale."
Mr. Snowball assented, proceeding to add
His opinion that "all Nature's colouring was bad;"
He had thought so e'er since a few days he had spent
To study the paintings of Rome, as he went
To visit his classmate Gentiana, who chose
His abode on the Alps, in a palace of snows:
But he took on Mont Blanc such a terrible chill
That ever since that he'd been pallid and ill.
Half withered Miss Hackmetack bought a new glass,
And thought with her neices, the Spruces, to pass;
But Bachelor Holly, who spyed her out late,
Destroyed all her hopes by a hint at her date:
So she pursed up her mouth and said tartly with scorn,
"She could not remember before she was born."
Old Jonquil the crooked-backed beau had been told
That a tax would be laid on bachelor's gold;
So he bought a new coat and determined to try
The long disused armour of Cupid, so sly,
Sought out half opened buds in their infantine years,
And ogled them all, till they blushed to the ears.
Philosopher Sage, on a sofa was prosing,
With good Dr. Chamomile quietly dozing;
Though the Laurel descanted with eloquent breath,
Of heroes and battles, of victory and death,
Of the conquests of Greece, and Botzaris the brave,
"He had trod on his steps and had sighed o'er his grave."
Farmer Sunflower was near, and decidedly spake
Of the "poultry he fed, and the oil he might make;"
For the true-hearted soul deemed a weather-stained face,
And a toil-hardened hand no mark of disgrace.
Then he beckoned his nieces to rise from their seat,
The plump Dandelion and Cowslip so neat,
And bade them to "pack up their duds and away
For he believed in his heart 'twas the break o' the day."
'Twas indeed very late, and the coaches were brought,
For the grave matron flowers of their nurseries thought;
The lustre was dimmed of each drapery rare,
And the lucid young brows looked beclouded with care;
All save the bright Cereus, that belle so divine,
Who preferred through the curtains of midnight to shine.
Now they curtseyed and bowed, as they moved to the door,
But the Poppy snored loud ere the parting was o'er,
For Night her last candle was snuffing away,
And Flora grew tired, though she begged them to stay;
Exclaimed "all the watches and clocks were too fast,
And old Time ran in spite, lest her pleasure should last."
But when the last guest went with daughter and wife,
She vowed she "was never so glad in her life;"
Called out to her maids, who with weariness wept,
To "wash all the glasses and cups ere they slept;
For Aurora, that pimp, with her broad, staring eye,
Always tried in her house some disorder to spy:"
Then she sipped some pure honey-dew, fresh from the lawn,
And with Zephyrons hasted to sleep until dawn.