OR, LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 191 
The violet bed’s not sweeter. Honest wedlock 
Is like a banqueting-house in a garden, 
On which the Spring’s chaste flowers take delight 
To cast their modest colours; when base lust 
With all her powders, paintings, and best pride 
Is but a fair house built in a morass. 
THE HEART’S-EASE. 
There is a little flower that’s found 
In almost every garden ground, 
’Tis lowly, but ’tis sweet: 
And if its name express its power, 
A lovelier and a sweeter flower 
You’ll never, never meet. 
No—not the wealth of Chili’s mine, 
Dear flow’ret, may compare with thine, 
For thee I’d give it all; 
Hut if the wealthy will not bear 
Thy modest charms in their parterre, 
Grow ’neath my garden wall: 
I said in every garden-ground; 
Perhaps in Eden ’twas not found, 
For there it was not wanted; 
But soon as sin and sorrow came, 
Thy flower received its gladdening name, 
By mercy’s angel planted. 
