250 SONGS AND CHORUS OF THE FLOWERS. 



Grossest hand can test us , 

 Fools may prize' us never: 

 Yet we rise, and rise, and rise marvels sweet 

 for ever. 



Who shall say that flowers 

 Dress not heaven's own bowers ! 

 Who its love, without us, can fancy or sweet 



floor? 



Who shall even dare 

 To say we sprang not there 

 And came not down that Love might bring one 



piece of heaven the more ? 

 O ! pray believe that angels 

 From those blue dominions, 

 Brought us in their white laps down, 'twixt their 

 golden pinions. 



