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Floral Poetry. 
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BLESSED BE GOD FOR FLOWERS. 
B LESSED be God for flowers ; 
For the bright, gentle, holy thoughts that breathe 
From out their odorous beauty, like a wreath 
Of sunshine on life’s hours. 
Ay, prize them well, my child— 
The bright young blooming things that never die— 
Pointing our hopes to happier worlds that lie 
Far o’er this earthly wild ; 
Prize them, that when forgot 
By all, their old familiar tints shall bring 
Sweet thoughts of her, whose dirge the deep winds sing. 
And whose love earth holds not; 
Prize them, that through all hours 
Thou hold’st sweet commune with their beauty here ; 
And, rich in this, through many a future year, 
Bless thou our God for flowers ! 
Mrs. Tinsley. 
THE BROKEN FLOWER. 
O H ! wear it on thy heart, my love, 
Still, still a little while ; 
Sweetness is lingering in its leaves, 
Though faded be their smile. 
Yet for the sake of what hath been, 
Oh ! cast it not away; 
’Twas born to grace a summer scene, 
A long, bright, golden day, 
My love, 
A long, bright, golden day ! 
