42 ? ORCHIDS. 
soming,— as soon as the flowers awake from sleep, — they salute 
them with the words, “ Good day, Sweet Lady!” 
“Poetry is full of the flower-fields; because each flower seems 
full of poetry to us. The flower-names are often little poems in 
themselves. Those long uncouth names, dreaded in Botany, hide 
naturemeanings in them. Heliotrope is ‘she who turns to the 
sun;’ Mesembryanthemum is ‘flower of the mid-day ;’ Nasturtium 
carries its meaning of ‘bent nose’ in its face; Geranium is ‘crane’s 
bill, —let the seed-vessel grow and it will tell the reason why; 
Saxifrage is ‘rock-cleaver, so named from its birthplace in the 
clefts; Anemone is ‘wind-flower. These, you see, were but simple 
heart and eye names to the Greeks or Romans, just as we call the 
pets heart’s-ease, day’s-eye, morning-glory, honeysuckle, mignonette. 
Each people has its own. Other flower-names come down to us 
impearled with myth and story,—the hyacinth, narcissus, Solo- 
mon’s-seal, arethusa, the passion-flower. What sacred romances 
the lotus flower, the martyr’s palm, the victor’s laurel, recall! 
There is probably no famous poet who has not sealed his fame 
into a song about some favorite of the fields. Nay, every one 
plays poet with them, even those who write no verses. We use 
them to interpret all the tenderest things in life. When lovers 
would tell unutterable thoughts, they seek the floral messengers 
who have learned to say silently so much. When we want to send 
the home-presence tangibly in a letter, flowers from the window, 
or the field close by, will carry it best. The wounded in army 
hospitals, longing for familiar faces, tones, and touch, — greet 
flowers as the best substitute. ‘Now, I’ve got something for you 
that will talk of home, said the nurse to a very sick New Eng- 
land soldier. ‘Lilacs, he whispered and smiled. But the lilacs 
outlived him.” — Rev. W. C. Gannett. 
