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The stigmas of one of the blue Crocuses, (Crocus sativus,} 

 are cut out of the flower, and when dried are called Saffron ; 

 and such vast numbers of the plants were grown in the reign 

 of Edward III. around Walden, in Essex, that ever since the 

 place has been called Saffron Walden. There are still some 

 fields of it in that neighbourhood. 



The poets are fond of writing upon this, the first promise of 

 a coming spring. One poet says : 



" Lowly, sprightly little flower. 

 Herald of a brighter bloom. 

 Bursting in a sunny hour, 

 From thy winter tomb. 

 " Hues you bring bright, gay, and tender, 



As if never to decay, 

 Fleeting in their varied splendour. 

 Soon alas ! they fade away." Patterson. 



One of the prettiest little poems on the Crocus is by Mrs. 

 Strickland, which perhaps some of our young readers may be 

 acquainted with. We can only afford room for a verse or two : 



" Oh ! pleasant is the hopeful hour, 



When from her lowly bed, 

 We mark the Crocus, early flower, 

 Uprear her golden head ! 



' ' We deem the weary winter past, 

 When from her darksome tomb, 

 The merry Crocus bursts at last 

 In her perennial bloom ! 



" The bulb that slumbered in the ground, 



Hath felt a quickening change, 

 And wakes, with bright apparel crowned, 

 As beautiful as strange ! 



" E'en thus the spirits of the just 



In glorious forms shall rise ; 

 When Christ shall summon from the dust, 

 His chosen to the skies I" 1 



The Golden Crocus is not common as a wild flower in any 

 part of England ; but around Nottingham the blue Vernal 

 Crocus covers whole meadows, and it is a delightful sight to see 

 the fields so blue even in the winter, and bands of little chil- 

 dren plucking the beautiful flowers. The Crocus flower closes 

 up at night, and remains closed by day also, unless the sun 

 shines upon it, or the weather suddenly becomes' warmer than 

 it had been before. 



