54 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Then, in a softer tone, they said to her : — The 
child which hath not seen the light hath not known 
the sorrows of life : his young spirit, borne aloft on 
glittering wings, soars to the abodes of everlasting 
day. The souls of infants who, like thine, have 
burst without pain the bonds of life, reclining on 
golden clouds, appear and open to him the myster- 
ious portal of the manufactory of flowers. There 
these innocents are continually employed in enclos- 
ing the flowers that the next spring shall bring 
forth in imperceptible germs : these germs they 
scatter every morning over the earth with the tears 
of the dawn. Millions of delicate hands enwrap the 
rose in its bud, the grain of corn in its husk, the 
mighty oak in a single acorn, a whole forest in an 
imperceptible seed. 
We have seen him, Malvina ! — we have seen, 
the infant whom thou mournest, borne on a light 
mist : he approached, and poured upon our fields 
a fresh harvest of flowers. Behold, Malvina ! — 
among these flowers there is one with golden disk, 
encircled with rays of silver, tipped with a delicate 
tint of crimson. Waving amid the grass in a gentle 
beeeze, it looks like a little child playing in a green 
meadow. Dry thy tears, Malvina ! — the hero 
