228 THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
At length the perfume fill’d the room, 
Shed from their purple wreath ; 
No flower has now so rich a bloom. 
Has now so sweet a breath. 
I gathered two or three— they seemed 
Such rich gifts to bestow ; 
So precious in my sight, I deemed 
That all must think them so. 
Ah! who is there but would be fain 
To be a child once more; 
If future years could bring again 
All that they brought before ? 
My heart’s world has been long o’er thrown. 
It is no more of flowers — 
Their bloom is past, their breath is flown : 
Yet I recall those hours. 
Let nature spread her loveliest, 
By spring or summer nurs’d; 
Yet still I love the Violet best, 
Because I loved it first. 
W- 
Woodbine. — Lonicera. — Fraternal Affection. 
I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers could not, 
with all their quantity of love, make up my sum. 
Shaks. 
Water Lily.— Chastity. 
Be thou as pure as ice, as chastens snow, thou shalt 
not escape calumny. — Shaks, 
