290 
ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 
A MAY MORNING. 
O LADY, leave thy silken thread 
And flowery tapestry ; 
There’s living roses on the bush, 
And blossoms on the tree ; 
Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand 
Some random bud will meet; 
Thou canst not tread, but thou'wilt find 
The daisy at thy feet. 
’Tis like the birthday of the world, 
When earth was here in bloom ; 
The light is made of many dyes, 
The air is all perfume ; 
There’s crimson buds, and white and blue — 
The very rainbow showers 
Have turned to blossoms where thev fell,' 
• And sown the earth with flowers. 
There’s fairy tulips in the east, 
The garden of the sun ; 
The very streams reflect the hues 
And blossom as they run ; 
While morn opes like a crimson rose. 
Still wet with pearly showers ; 
Then, lady, leave the silken thread 
Thou twinest into flowers 
PUT FLOWERS IN YOUR WINDOW. 
P UT flowers in your window, friend. 
And summer in your heart; 
The greenness of their mimic boughs 
Is of the woods a part; 
The color of their tender bloom 
Is love’s own pleasing hue, 
As surely as you smile on them, 
They’ll smile again on you. 
Put flowers in your window, when 
You sit in idle mood ; 
For wholesome, mental aliment, 
There is no cheaper food. 
For love and hope and charity 
Are in their censer shrined, 
And shapes of loveliest thought grow out 
The flower-loving mind.” 
Yes, I love the children of the woodlands, of the highlands and the lowlands. Espec¬ 
ially those first heralds of spring that come forth with all her newness and dewy freshness, 
that quickening of life that makes one’s pulses bound. Yes, 
“ There is to me 
A daintiness about these earty flowers, 
That touch me like poetry. They blow out 
With such a simple loveliness among 
The common herbs of pasture, and they breathe 
Their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts 
Whose beatings are too gentle for the world.” 
Mrs. G. W. Flanders,. 
