TIME AND THE FLOWERS 
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’Twill cheer me many a lonely hour^ 
And in the future I shall see 
Those who would sink raised by that flower — 
They’ll look on it^ then think of thee : 
And many a sadful heart shall sing. 
The Snowdrop bringeth Hope and Spring.” 
THE STORY OF TIME AND THE FLOWERS. 
Happy was that age when Love and Beauty kept no other 
record of time than what they found in the opening and 
closing of the flowers, when the day was measured by the 
rising and setting of the sun, and the hours marked in the 
unfolding and shutting of the blossoms ! 
Morning and evening the village maiden marked the 
hour of . milking-time by the waking and sleeping of the 
Daisy. The mower, as he strode forth, with his scythe 
over his shoulder, to cut down the summer flowers, has- 
tened his step if he saw that the cup of the Convolvulus 
had expanded ; and when his arm was weary, turned to the 
hedge, over which it trailed in many a fantastic line, for 
the close of his day’s labour was announced by the shut- 
ting of the Bindweed, The rustic beauty, before she went 
forth to Wake or Feast, or donned her holiday attire, 
went out and peeped at the scarlet Pimpernel ; and if its 
starry petals were closed, she knew that the showers would 
soon descend, and, sighing, laid aside her Sunday gar- 
ments, until she could see the purple spot at the bottom 
of the scarlet flower. 
They knew that Winter was awakening from his long 
sleep when the Snowdrop and the Crocus appeared ; they 
dated the coming of Spring from the yellow dawning of 
Primroses upon the banks, and the deep flush of Violets 
which lay like a purple cloud upon the grass; and when 
the Roses and Honeysuckles were in full bloom, they 
knew that Summer had come in the beauty of her broad 
bloom of flowers ; but, when only a blossom was seen here 
and there upon the Bramble, and the blue of the nodding 
Harebell looked wan and pale, and the crimson flush of 
the hardy Heath had faded from its cheek, they whispered 
