To the Baron De Humboldt,
ON HIS BRINGING ME SOME FLOWERS IN MARCH.
SOOTH’D I receive the flowers you bring,
Whose charm anticipates the Spring;
Whose tints in vernal freshness vie
With plants beneath an austral sky,—
Those glowing plants that, long unknown,
Your travell’d science made our own:—
Bright gift! in lavish grace array’d,
Thy flowers have only bloom’d to fade,—
Their transient being soon forgot:
How far unlike the giver’s lot!
