334 
7he Floral Oracle. 
monially-inclined birds and lovers ; and upon the eve of whose 
day — that sacred day to which the crocus is dedicated—“all 
the rising generation,” observes an unloveable author, “feel 
that they have reached the years of ^discretion, and think it 
full time for them to fall in love, or be fallen in love with. 
Accordingly, infinite are the crow-quills that move mincingly 
between embossed margins, 
And those rhyme now who never rhymed before, 
And those who always rhymed now rhyme the more! ’ ” 
As a tribute to the saint, Montgomery has placed the fol¬ 
lowing valentine wreath upon the vernal shrine of the New 
Y ear: 
“ Rosy red the hills appear 
With the light of morning, 
Beauteous clouds, in sether clear, 
All the east adorning; 
White through mist the meadows shine: 
Wake, my love, my valentine! 
“For thy locks of raven hue, 
Flowers of hoar-frost pearly, 
Crocus-cups of gold and blue, 
Snowdrops drooping early, 
With mezereon-sprigs combine: 
Rise, my love, my valentine! 
“ O’er the margin of the flood 
Pluck the daisy peeping; 
Through the covert of the wood 
Hunt the sorrel creeping; 
With the little celandine 
Crown my love, my valentine! 
“ Pansies on their lowly stems 
Scattered o’er the fallows, 
Hazel-buds with crimson gems. 
Green and glossy sallows, 
Tufted moss and ivy twine, 
Deck my love, my valentine !- 
“ Few and simple flow’rets these; 
Yet to me less glorious 
Garden-beds and orchard-trees! 
Since this wreath victorious 
Binds you now for ever mine, 
O my love, my valentine! ” 
A very ancient custom in vogue on the eve of the anxiously- 
awaited Fourteenth of February is thus described in the almost 
forgotten “Connoisseur:” “Last Friday was Valentine’s Day, 
and the night previous I got five bay-leaves, and pinned four 
of them to the four corners of my pillows, and the fifth to the 
middle; and then, if I dreamt of my sweetheart, I was told 
that we should be married before the year was out.” Whether 
the fates proved propitious deponent does not state. Another 
and more daring attempt to wrest, by means of florigraphic 
oracles, the secrets of futurity, is practised by country maidens 
on St. Mark’s-eve. Towards dusk they proceed to the church 
porch, and there place a bouquet of certain symbolic flowers 
