90 
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
“ When Winter decks his few gray hairs, 
Thee in the scanty wreath he wears; 
Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, 
That she may sun thee; 
Whole summer fields arc thine by right; 
And Autumn, melancholy wight! 
Doth in thy crimson head delight 
When rains are on thee. 
In shoals and hands, a morrice train, 
Thou greet’st the traveller in the lane; 
If welcome once thou count’st it gain; 
Thou art not daunted, 
Nor car’st if thou be set at nought, 
And oft alone, in nooks remote, 
We meet thee like a pleasant thought, 
When such are wanted. 
Be violets in their secret mews 
The flowers the wanton zephyrs choose; 
Proud be the rose, with rains and dews 
Her head impearling; 
Thou liv’st with less ambitious aim, 
Yet hast not gone without thy fame; 
Thou art indeed, by many a claim. 
The poet’s darling. 
* * * 
When, smitten by the morning ray, 
I see thee rise, alert and gay, 
Then, cheerful flower ! my spirits play 
With kindred gladness; 
And when at dusk, by dews oppressed, 
Thou sink’st, the image of thy rest 
Hath often eased my pensive breast 
Of careful sadness.” 
DOUBLE GARDEN DAISY. I share your feelings. 
When the lady of a knight allowed him to engrave 
this flower on his arms, it was a public avowal that his 
affection was returned. 
If left too long in one spot, the garden daisy is apt 
