AND FLOWERS OF POETRY. 177 
PLATONIC LOVE. 
ACACIA. 
The savages of America have consecrated the acacia to the 
genius of chaste love ; their bows are made from the incorrupt¬ 
ible wood of this tree, their arrows are armed with one of its 
thorns. These fierce children of the desert, whom nothing can 
subdue, conceive a sentiment full of delicacy; perhaps what 
they are unable to express by words, but they understand the 
sentiment by the expression of a branch of blooming acacia. 
The young savage, like the city coquette, understands this sedu¬ 
cing language, and receives, blushing, the homage of him who 
has won her heart by respect and by love. 
It is not more than a century since the forests of Canada 
yielded us this beautiful tree. The botanist Robin, who first 
brought it us, gave it his name. The acacia, when spreading 
its light shade in our groves, with its scented flowers, and sweet 
and fresh verdure, seems to prolong the spring. The nightin¬ 
gale loves to confide its nest to this new inhabitant of our cli¬ 
mate ; the lovely bird, assured by the long and strong thorns 
which protect its family, sometimes descends upon the lowest 
branches of the tree, to make its ravishing notes the better 
heard. 
The acacia has been made the emblem of domestic beauty 
by an anonymous writer, who thus speaks of it: “ Teints of the 
white, the golden, and the red rose, are beautifully intermingled 
with the rich blossoms of the acacia. It is found in the most 
retired places, and it blooms the fairest in the closeness of its 
own foliage. It loves the mossy rock and the solitary grove, 
and pines away in the gay garden and crowded parterre. Nour- 
mahal sings: — 
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair, 
