i6o THE ASSOCIATIOISIS OF FLOV/ERS 
“ Meet offerings they are to the kind and the good, 
Those flowers of an azure as pure as the sky; 
And there are they gathered in mournfullest mood, 
Or planted and tended with many a sigh. 
Where friendship reposes, or love is asleep. 
Their beauty is decking the lowly green sod ; 
While heart-stricken mourners come hither to weep 
Over her who has left them to rise to her God.” 
It is said that after the battle of V\mterloo an immense 
quantity of forget-me-not sprang up upon different parts 
of the soil enriched by the blood of heroes. This was 
probably the small but bright-blue meadow scorpion-grass, 
which, as before-mentioned, sometimes receives that name. 
A poet might say that the appearance of such a flower 
in this memorable spot seemed to ask that we should not 
soon forget those who perished on the held. 
The na.me of mouse-ear (Myosotis) was given to these 
plants, from a fancied similarity in the form of the leaf 
to the ear of a mouse ; and they received the name of 
scorpion-grass because the top of the stem bends round, 
while the buds are unblown, in the shape of a scorpion’s 
tail. The legend of the dying knight who cast a handful 
of these flowers to his mistress, and faintly uttered “ Forget 
me not!” as he sank under the water, is a very pretty, 
though scarcely a probable, origin of the name. 
The young buds of the water scorpion-grass, as well as 
several of the field species, are, before expansion, of a 
delicate rose-colour, which tint gradually becomes paler as 
they develop themselves; though the under surface of the 
flower, when fully open, always retains a shade of this 
colour. 
Seven species of scorpion-grass grow wild in Great Bri- 
tain, and some others have been introduced into the garden 
from different parts of Europe. One kind, Myosotis 
suav^olens, a native of Hungary, is odoriferous. 
It is, probably, to the bright little blue field scorpion- 
grass, which is often found in woods, that the following 
lines refer. The author of this work cannot tell who is 
the writer, or if they have ever appeared in print ; but 
