ON THE LOVE OF FLOWERS. 251 



" See the dew-drops how they kiss 

 Every little flower that is, 

 Hanging on their velvet lieads 

 Like a rope of crystal beads." Faithful SniiPHERDEfs. 



" The air was cooling, and so very still, 

 That the sweet buds which with a modest pride 

 Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, 

 Their scautly leaved and finely-tapering stems 

 Had not yet lost those starry diadems 

 Caught from the early sobbing of the morn." Kkats. 



" Dew-drops like diamonds hung on every tree, 

 And sprinkled silvery lustre o'er the lea ; 

 And all the verdurous herbage of the ground 

 Was decked with pearls which cast a splendour round ; 

 The flowers, the buds, and every plant that grew 

 Sipp'd the fresh fragrance of the morning dew. 

 In every plant the liquid nectar flowed, 

 In every bud, and every flower that Mowed ; 

 Here roved the busy bees without control, 

 liobbed the sweet bloom, and sucked its balmy soul." 



"We selflom see a parterre of flowers, on a fine summer's day, in wliich 

 the butterfly and the bee are not present, 



" Feeding upon their pleasures bounteously." 



The murmur of bees is a grateful sound — it tells of sunshine and 

 •sweet odours ; it is one of those gentler tones of nature's voice which 

 have a kind and soothing influence on the spirits ; like the whisper of 

 a gentle air among the leaves ; tlie sigh of the long grass, as it bends 

 before the breeze ; or the murmur of a neighbouring runnel. It could 

 not then be overlooked by the jioet : 



" Him to soft slumbers call 

 The babbling brooks, the fall 

 Of silver fountains, and the unstudied hymns 

 Of cageless birds, whose throats 

 Pour forth the sweetest notes ; 

 Shrill through the crystal air the music swims ; 

 To which the humming bee 

 Keeps ceaseless company 

 Flying solicitous from fiower to flower, 

 Tasting each sweet that dwcdls 

 Within their scented bells; 



Whilst the wind sways the forest, bower on bower, 

 That evermore, in drowsy murmurs deep. 

 Sings in the air, and aids descending sleep." 



Wiffen's Gakcilasso. 



" From sapling trees, with lucid foliage erown'd 

 Gay lights and shadows twinkled on the ground ; 

 Up the tall stems luxuriant creepers run. 

 To hang their silver blossoms in the sun ; 

 Deep velvet verdure clad the turf beneath. 

 Where trodden flowers their richest odours breathe ; 

 O'er all the bees with murmuring music flew 

 From bell to bell, to sip the honied dew." Montgomery. 



(To he continued.) 



