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THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 41 
numerous as our pleasures ; and few there are who 
can look back upon the experience of life without 
acknowledging that every earthly good they have 
desired, pursued, or attained, has had its peculiar 
thorn. Who has ever cast himself into the lap of 
luxury without finding that his couch was strewed 
with thorns ? Who has reached the summit of his 
ambition without feeling, on that exalted pinnacle, 
that he stood on thorns ? Who has placed the 
diadem upon his brow without perceiving that 
thorns were thickly set within the royal circlet? 
Who has folded to his bosom all that he desired 
of earth’s treasures without feeling that bosom 
pierced with thorns ? All that we enjoy in this 
world, or yearn to possess, has this accompani¬ 
ment. The more intense the enjoyment, the 
sharper the thorn ; and those who have described 
most feelingly the inner workings of the human 
heart, have unfailingly touched upon this fact with 
the melancholy sadness of truth. 
Far be it from one, who would not willingly fall 
under the stigma of ingratitude, to disparage the 
nature or the number of earthly pleasures — pleas¬ 
ures which are spread before us without price or 
limitation, in our daily walk, and in our nightly 
rest — pleasures which lie scattered around our 
path when we go forth upon the hills or wander 
in the valley, when we look up to the starry sky 
or down to the fruitful earth — pleasures which 
unite the human family in one bond of fellowship, 
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