THE POETRY OF GARDENING. 91 



stance in which our national taste has been redeemed by 

 the cottager, against the vulgar pretensions of overgrown 

 luxury and wealth. 



We need not deny the dahlia his due, though he is a 

 bit of a coxcomb. Its rich velvety and chiseled petals, 

 and the extraordinary variety and beauty of its colours, 

 claim for it one of the highest ranks among florists' flowers ; 

 but, then, immediately a flower becomes a florist's flower, 

 it loses half its poetry. Who can endure the pedantry that 

 proses over the points of a polyanthus ? 



" The glorious flower which bore the prize away ! " 



And have not horticultural shows and prizes almost 

 removed the dahlia out of our poetical sympathies ? 

 Above all, its odious distinctive names pall upon our 

 senses. Who can care about the " Metropolitan Purple," 

 " Diadem of Perfection," or the ' Suffolk Hero" ? Who 

 can wish to point out in his garden "Lord Lyndhurst" 

 cheek by jowl with " the Quakeress," " Lord Durham " 

 in rivalry with " Yellow Perfection," or " Lovely Anne " 

 escorted by " Sir Isaac Newton " ? to say nothing of such 

 classic designations as " Jim Crow," <; Leonardy," 

 " Summum Bonum," " O'Connell," " King Boy," and 

 " Master Buller," and the thousand other et ceteras with 

 which the nurserymen's lists abound. Besides, one tires 

 of disquisitions on its " showy habit," and " cupped petals," 

 and " extra fine shape," and all the nicely-regulated enthu- 

 siasm of the ultra-florist. 



" This, this is beauty ; cast, I pray, your eyes 

 On this my glory ! see the grace ! the size ! 

 Was ever stem so tall, so stout, so strong, 

 Exact in breadth, in just proportion long ? 

 These brilliant hues are all distinct and clean, 

 No kindred tint, no blending streaks between ; 

 This is no shaded, run-off, pin-eyed thing, 

 A king of flowers, a flower for England's King ! " 



