Oil, LANGUAGE OP FLOWERS. 107 
Ho meets her—passes—has nought to say— 
Ilis courage failed him by the way. 
At length he summons all his might; 
Goes forth to meet her with delight: 
The prize is great—he must succeed, 
If not, his smitten heart must bleed. 
He meets her—gazes on her face, 
Adorn’d with every modest grace; 
His glances now meet with return; 
Her crimson cheeks with passion burn. 
Still nothing said; the pent up fire 
Is burning still—will not expire; 
At last he ventures with a rose, 
To show his love, and then propose. 
The language of the rose she know 
Soon as presented to her view: 
She took it—thank’d him—departed thence— 
The feast of love did then commence. 
Happy meeting ! Their hearts are gay! 
That love begun will not decay 1 
The sweetest part of human life 
Is that when man first sees his wife. on. 
Look as a lover with a lingering kiss, 
About to part with the best half that’s his; 
Fain would he stay, but that he fears to do it, 
And blames swift time for so fast hastening to it I 
Now takes his leave, and yet begins anew 
To make less vows than are esteemed true; 
