GOSSIP WITH A BOUQUET OF SPRING FLOWERS, 



BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 



Speak,— Speak, sweet guests. Open your lips in words. 

 'Tis my delight to talk with you, and fain 

 I'd have an answer. I've been long convinc'd 

 You understand me, — though you do not choose 

 To wear your bright thoughts on your finger-tips 

 For all to sport with. 



Lily of the Vale, 

 And you, meek Violet, with your eyes of blue, 

 I call on you the first, — for v> ell I know 

 How prone our village maidens are, to hide 

 Their clear good sense among the city folks. 

 Unless well-urged and fortified to speak. 



O purple Pansy, friend of earliest years. 



You're always welcome. Have you never heard 



From some old grandmother, in cushion' d chair 



Sitting at Autumn, of your ancestors, 



Who on the shelter'd margin of the Thames 



Flourish'd, more vigorous and more fair than you ? 



