OH, LANGUAGE OE FLOWERS. 1C9 
Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear ! 
They were born to blush in her shining hair, 
She is leaving the home of her childhood’s mirth, 
She hath bid farewell to her father’s hearth; 
Her place is now by another’s side— 
Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride! 
Bring flowers, pale flowers, on the bier to shed, 
A crown for the brow of the early dead ; 
For this, through its leaves, hath the white rose 
hurst; 
For this, in the woods, was the violet nursed ; 
Though they smile in vain for what once was ours, 
They are love’s last gift—bring ye flowers, pale 
flowers! 
Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer, 
They are nature’s offering, their place is there ! 
They speak of hope to the fainting heart, 
With a voice of promise they come and part, 
They sleep in dust through the winter hours, 
They break forth in glory—bring flowers, bright 
flowers! Mas. Hemans. 
WHAT WE LOVE A WOMAN FOE! 
Some one, speaking of a beautiful girl, 
enthusiastically said he was almost in love 
with her, though her understanding was 
