The Winter Nosegay.

What Nature, alas! has denied     To the delicate growth of our isle,     Art has in a measure supplied,     And winter is deckd with a smile.     See, Mary, what beauties I bring     From the shelter of that sunny shed,     Where the flowers have the charms of the spring,     Though abroad they are frozen and dead.     Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets,     Where Flora is still in her prime,     A fortress to which she retreats     From the cruel assaults of the clime.     While earth wears a mantle of snow,     These pinks are as fresh and as gay     As the fairest and sweetest that blow     On the beautiful bosom of May.     See how they have safely survived     The frowns of a sky so severe;     Such Marys true love, that has lived     Through many a turbulent year.     The charms of the late-blowing rose     Seem graced with a livelier hue;     And the winter of sorrow best shows     The truth of a friend such as you.