ON A FAN by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS

NOW I've painted these flowers, say what can I do,
To render them worthy acceptance from you?
I know of no sybil, whose wonderful art
Could to them superior virtues impart,
Who, of magical influence wonders could tell,
And, who over each blossom could mutter a spell.

You only the humbler enchantments can prove,
That arise from esteem, from respect, and from love:
With such I assail you, and pow'rful the charm,
When applied to a heart sympathetic and warm;
To a heart such as that, which, if right I divine,
O C--ll--n--n! dwells in that bosom of thine.

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