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Tulip called to the Eglantine; "Good neighbor, I hope you see How the throngs that visit the garden come    To pay their respects to me.

"The florist admires my elegant robe,    And praises its rainbow ray, Till it seems as if, through his raptured eyes     He was gazing his soul away."

"It may be so," said the Eglantine; "In a humble nook I dwell, And what is passing among the great,    I cannot know so well.

But they speak of me, as the flower of love, And that low, whispered name, Is dearer to me, and my infant buds, Than the loudest breath of fame."