Flowers. Qh 



mignonette, carnations, sweet pea, and sweet scented, perpetual 

 roses. These have perfumes rivaling the " odors from the spicy 

 shades of Araby, the blest." The lady who sweeps her velvets 

 over the mosaic walks of the conservatory, does not feel more 

 pleasure in the possession of that costly structure, than will flush 

 the face of the lowly woman, as she bends over her one fuchsia,, 

 crowing with true democracy of flowers in all the luxuriance of its 

 natural form, in an old, cracked sugar bowl, her hand, hard and toil- 

 stained, toying tenderly with its graceful bells. She forgets that 

 her whole frame aches with weariness, and her soul goes out for a 

 brief moment in unutterable joy, leaving her body to rest — they 

 are so gratefully soothing. 



We lay them, as a nation, on the graves of our soldiers in token of 

 a patriotic sentiment, which tends to inspire loyalty in the hearts of 

 all who witness the ceremony. We scatter them with tender love 

 and rearret around the dear one taken from our circle. We deck 

 the young bride with fair blossoms expressive of loving wishes. 

 With their fragde beauty, their wondrous color, their exquisite fra- 

 grance, they possess the power to make the plainest house attract- 

 ive. They are ever smiling and innocently quiet, never loudly 

 complaining or reproachful companions; yet they speak a language 

 silent, but expressive of inspiration, instruction and consolation. 



'Beautiful flowers, wherever ye bloom, 

 With your soft-tinted leaves and your fragrant perfume; 

 Whether in Spring ye come forth from the ground, 

 Or when Autumn scatters her dead leaves around, 

 Whether in cottage or palace ye dwell, 

 Beautiful flowers, I love you well. 



Behold a young girl In her mirthful play, 



Laughing the hours of childhood away; 



The light winds are waving her sunny hair, 



And her voice sounds sw,eet in the silent air, 



While her fair hands are twining from summer bowers 



Wild blooming wreaths of the beautiful flowers. 



The scene is now changed, for years have flown, 

 The gay laughing girl to a woman has grown; 

 And the lover is there who fain would tell 



