THE LADY DECORATOR 59 



An Irish poetess sings a song about it, which I give, as it 

 is always a pleasure to see London through a poet's eyes. 



" Make me a song for Primrose Day. 

 Along the streets of London town 

 A Primrose snowstorm settles down, 

 And makes each street an amber way. 

 Here are tall baskets that o'erbrim 

 With posies bound for one day's whim. 

 Here are shrill voices that would drown 

 All singing, crying their gold wares ^ 

 And many buy, if no one cares 

 How lonesome are the country places 

 Deserted by these Primrose faces.'* 



Thus it has been for more than twenty years on April 

 the 19th, and whether the pretty flower was really loved 

 best by its hero as a salad or as an ornament does not 

 matter. The Primrose, so plentiful, so popular, as a 

 memory-flower is perfect, none the less so because Shake- 

 speare has pervaded it with a touch of sadness. 



Floral trophies are, in my opinion, little to be admired ; 

 dreadful things are done in their name. Flower hearts 

 and harps and crowns, and cushions with cords and 

 tassels, made by stripping Violets from their stalks and 

 stringing them on lengths of wire like beads — how terrible 

 are all these ! And so it is to see in Christmas churches 

 chains of Holly-berries hung about like rosaries, though 

 of the two one would rather stab a berry than a Violet. 



Ballroom bouquets are less fashionable now than in 

 early and mid-Victorian days, when a pretty girl would 

 have as many as a dozen sent her on one evening by 

 different admirers. What changes, too, in the method 

 of arrangement ! Instead of the trailing posy or picturesque 

 bunch, every flower individualized, one had then stiff 

 circles of blossoms tightly packed. Violets and white 

 Camelias thus arranged were very popular, and one 

 Camelia, with a glossy leaf or two, would be worn upon 



