hi v f i/ 
THE NATURALIST. 
VOL. Y.J NO. XXXV.—AUGUST, 1839. 
-- 
THE BOTANICAL LOOKER-OUT.* 
No. XII.— June. 
“ I dreamt that at even a white mist arose 
Where the hedge-row Brambles twist;— 
I thought that my love was a sweet wild Rose, 
And I the silvery mist! 
I dreamt that my love was a sweet wild Pea 
All cover’d with purple bloom $ 
And I, methought, was an amorous Bee 
That lov’d the rich perfume. 
Again—I was where the moon did line 
The forest with silver bright;— 
I thought that my love was a wild Woodbine, 
And I—a zephyr light.” 
Anonymous. 
I have not the honour of knowing the poet or poetess who seized upon these 
flowery similies; but to a botanical “ looker-out,” like myself, who, of course, 
ought to be up to every thing that the use of flowers, in season or out of season, 
will by possibility command at this dreamy time, they come in not inappropriately. 
This is, indeed, making the most of flowers—to enjoy the felicity of having 
them the companions of our dreams, and not only so, but to have our loves 
transformed into them, so that while they lose none of their delicacy or beauty, 
they are, at all events, prevented from running away from us; while, as 
“ amorous Bees,” we are allowed to fly about in all directions over the gay 
parterre—thanks, Mr. “ Anon,” for this bright idea, which, no doubt, our dear 
loves will at once sanction with their kind approval! It would also be a great 
help, occasionally, to a botanist, to become the “ silvery mist,” as eminences 
might then be visited, where curious flowers grow, without the toil of scaling 
* This is one of a beautiful series of articles in course of publication in the Cheltenham Looker-on, 
They appear anonymously, and we leave our readers the pleasure of discovering their authorship, 
—Ed. Nat. 
ft/'.'l f.ORAi l 
VOL. V.—NO. XXXV. 
H 
