210 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 



Round us the silver trout do glide, 

 Blithe zephyrs dance amidst our bowea*, 

 And with us insects gay abide, 

 Who call us sweetest of the flowers. 

 We make these solitudes rejoice, 

 Adorn and bless our parent wave ; 

 And should it be her children's choice 

 To leave her, but to find a grave ? 



We should not he in bowers of art, 

 Blooming and fresh as we are here 

 Soon woultl our lovliness depart 

 And wither'd things we should appear. 

 See yellow Napnar* now so gay, 

 Blue Pontederiaj fresh and fair, 

 Oh, thyy wotf.d droop the very day, 

 Should take them from their natal air! 



Anil I, she said, in accents sweet, 

 Whose robe of plain and simple white 

 Is fin those shades a garment meet; 

 I could not bide tho glaring light, 

 Which gaudy tulips love so well 

 Oh grant me, Heav'n my little day 

 Untouch'd by pride may pus3 away 



*The Yellow water-lily 



f A beautiful aquatic flo\vor. vvitn blossoms tnic.Kiv crowded upon a spike; this 

 Sower intermixed with the Wli:to and yellow lilies, nroiluces a fine effect. 



