10 



LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 





Round us the silver trout do glide, 

 Wlithe zephyrs dance amidst our bowen* 

 And with us insects gay abide, 

 Who call us sweetest of the flower*. 

 \Vu make these solitudes rejoice, 

 Adorn and bless our parent wave ; 

 An. I fhould 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 would our lovlines* depart 

 And wither'd things we should appeal. 

 Sffn yellow Xapn^ir* now so gay, 

 Blue Pontederiaf fresh and fair, 

 Oh, they worf.d droop the very daj, 

 Should take them from their natal air! 



An'l I, ho said, in accent* sweet, 

 Whose robe of plant and simple white 



Is for these shades a garment meet ;- 

 could not bide the glaring lipiit, 



Which gaudy tulips love so well 

 Oh grant me, Heuv'n my little daf 

 Uniouch'd by pride may pass awayt 



? 



~* h^ Ye ow watPi-lilr 



^A beautiful aquatic flo-wr. witn boornB inicitiv crowded upon a ipike ; i 

 lower intermixed with the \Vb:tb ana ir allow hiis. produces a fine effect. 





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