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THE CANADIAN HOKTICULTDKlST, 



MONTH OF MAY. 



(Written for the Canadian Horticulturist. J 

 Tlie blackthorn bloom falls on the spray. 



The daisies deck the hill, 

 And May, the lovely maiden, May, 



With joy each blossom fills ; 

 Sweet May ! the lark doth hail tliee here, 



The linnet on tlie tree. 

 With thee the summer birds appear. 



The lambs call after tliee. 



Weary witli toil, I wander. May, 



Witliin thy peaceful bower, 

 Tliou cheer'st me with tliy merry lay. 



And strew'st my path with flowers. 

 The meadows witii their diadem 



Of cowslijis ; shall I say, 

 That every floweret is a gem, 



To deck the Month of May ! 



With blossoms on thy brow, dear May, 



The pi'imrose at thy feet, 

 And in thy hand the hawthorn spray, 



So fragrant and so sweet, 

 Tliou bring'st the lilac to the bower, 



The lily to the pot. 

 And to the bank that bonnie Hower, 



The sweet forget-me-not. 



How beautiful thou art, fair May. 



In robes of gold and green, 

 How happy is it round about, 



Thy face, May, how serene. 

 And on thy cheek the virgin blush, 



So beautiful to see. 

 And in the grove the sweet song thrush, 



Is carroUing to thee. 



A thousand birds their .joy betray, 



To burst each bud to life. 

 And when thou sniil'st, fair maiden. May, 



Earth tuems with love and life. 

 So softly breathing, sweetest May, 



How balmy is the air ; 

 1 see thee tripping o'er the way, 



A vision bright and fair. 

 St. Mary's. Miis. W. H. W. 



HYACINTHS. 



(Addressed to a bed of Hyacinths blooiniiig in a prixi 



yard.) 

 O fair and beautiful ! Why bloom ye here ? 

 Your pure and wax-like forms strangely contrast 

 With ironed doors and windows iron-barred, 

 Where massive walls rise gloomily, shutting 

 Out light and heat, with only one hour's sun 

 (When in meridian altitude) to warm 

 Your earthy bed ; but flowers have tlieir own use — 

 Their teachings, fraught with gentleness and love 

 And truth, which fall on the beholder 

 Like the " dew upon the tender herb," 

 Refreshing all with its kind, gentle power. 



Music like flowers, and flowers 

 Like music, charm and calm the passions 

 Of the human breast ; may this be here your 

 Ministry, where man degraded from his 

 Maker's imago, lower and lower falls 

 Until he merits these dark, gloomy and 

 Incarcerating walls. 



Flowers are indeed God's messengers 

 To bless and cheer a dying world, and pomt 

 With smiling face to the blest hope of the 

 " First Resurrection morn." 

 Owen Sound. M. W. M. 



SOME NATIVE ORCHIDS. 



Perhaps in these days, when the Or- 

 chid mania is raging, and the uttermost 

 parts of the eai'th are " investigated " to 

 discover new species of this wonderful 

 flower wherewith to adorn the Orchid 

 houses of wealthy amateui's, a few re- 

 marks about our native varieties may 

 interest those who, not having an abun- 

 dance of this world's goods, are fain to 

 content themselves with such specimens 

 of the genus as inhabit the fields or 

 groves of our native land. 



The various kinds of Cypripedium 

 are among the most showy of Orchida- 

 ceous plants in this section, and the 

 beauty of their blossoms rivals that of 

 some of their more favored sisters occu- 

 pying conspicuous places in the green- 

 house. The Cypripedium acaule, with 

 its large, purple flower, nodding on the 

 slender, graceful scape, is a veritable 

 floral gem, and the more common Cy- 

 pripedium pubescens, or Indian Mocca- 

 sin Flower, with its golden blossom, so 

 like a gigantic Calceolaria, is a plant 

 which no one who loves the wild beau- 

 ties of the forest would pass unheeded. 

 The loveliness of both the ji receding 

 species pales, however, beside that of 

 the Cypripedium spectabile, or Tall 

 Lady's Slipper, a denizen of swamps in 

 this part of the world. 



There is something marvellous in the 

 appearance of these great, white flowers, 

 which have markings on the inner sur- 

 face, delicate as if the tiny flecks of color 

 were laid on with a brush held by a 

 fairy's hand. The large sepals of these 

 blossoms are white, or nearly so, which 

 adds greatly to their beauty. Indeed, 

 when looking at a cluster from a little 

 distance oue would not find it very difii- 

 cult to imagine that the angel of the 

 flowers had appeared to mortal vision. 

 —Mrs. H. K L., Hoosac, N. Y., in 

 February number Vick's Magazine. 



PRINTED AT THR STEAM PRESS ESTABLISHMENT OF COPP, CI^ARK 4 CO., COLBOENE STREET, TORONTO. 



