THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. .*9 
And Kate, the light butterfly Kate, ever gay. 
Will choose the first blossom that comes in her 
way: 
The cistus will please her a moment, and then 
Away will she flutter, and settle again. 
But Julia for me, with her heart in her eyes, 
The child of the summer, too warm to be wise: 
Is the passion-flower near her, with tendrils close 
curled, 
She can smile whilst she suffers ; ’tis hers for the 
world. 
All are lovely, all blossom of heart and of mind ; 
Ail true to their natures, as Nature design’d ; 
To cheer and to solace, to strengthen, caress, 
And with love that can die not to buoy and to 
bless. 
With gentleness might, and with weakness, what 
grace! 
Revelations from Heaven in form and on face; 
Like the bow in the cloud, like the flower on the 
sod, 
They ascend and descend in my dreams as from 
God. 
