PENDLETON BOULEVARDS.

The golden sun of summer was sinking in the west,
And gentle birds were flying to gain each one her nest,
When spake a feeble mortal, who sat near Seedley Lane,
"Thank God for our good townsmen: this seat relieves my pain."

The boulevards of Pendleton add beauty to our home,
Nor oft shall we have reason in other lands to roam;

When death o ertakes the youngest, these paths will be the same,
To give new life and vigour to man's too fragile frame.

I'm proud of all the ladies who planted here the trees,

Though they were clad in costumes too rich for some to please;
I would that Flora gave them the wealth of her domain,
For fair to fair belongeth, and must with fair remain.

I'm proud of him who nobly bestowed on us the beech,
To shelter ardent lovers when love dictates the speech;
Here perhaps the tuneful throstle may sing his grateful songs
In honour of the givers, to whom the praise belongs.

I'm thankful to the donors of seats near Noyes' flowers,
Where age can rest in quiet, when over are the showers
That burst the buds as gently as early morning dew
Besprent on buds in Eden, when all the world was new.

I'm proud of Mr. Langworthy, whose name can here be seen
Inscribed, to name the highway and keep his memory green;
His portrait is at Peel Park, the glory of the town,

His name, with that of Brotherton, will ever have renown.

Of those who gave the pictures of pretty trees and flowers
I'm proud; they give us pleasure in all our leisure hours,
And draw the mind immortal to Nature's sweetest charms,
As artists threw the Graces into each others arms.

And let us hope that others may follow in the way
That they have trod so nobly, till all our town be gay,
And unborn poets over their honoured graves may sing
Of what they did to give us a never-ending spring.

What the Poets have said about

Flowers.

THE ROSE.

The rose is queen of Flora's flowery home,
Beloved in every land where'er we roam;
Blooming as maidens fair, this heaven-born gem,
Companion meet, and blessing unto them.

In olden days the King of Israel said,

"Crown us with rosebuds ere their beauty's fled; Come, bring the choicest of the roses hither,

And crown us with them ere they droop and wither!"

The wise man's temple was with riches filled,
Yet such an odour one fair rose distilled,
That balms nor gold, however rich and rare,
Could with its sweetness or its worth compare.

The wondrous minds of men of ancient days
Did round the rose entwine their purest praise;
A thousand gems upon this orient flower,
Will live in poesy till time's last hour.

In Flora's bowers, oh! may it e'er be seen,
Full ruby red, mid leafage emerald green!
True emblem of the passions mortals move,
Its bosom blushing with the fire of love.

T. C.

For le, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone:

The flowers appear on the earth;

The time of the singinging of birds is come