OR, LANGUAGE OE FLOWERS. 
237 
Canterbury Bell... .Acknowledgment. 
Ah, I must tell thee without fear, 
The die is surely cast; 
That I am thine, and only thine, 
Beloved, to the last. 
I could not see thee, hear thy voice, 
Or look upon thy brow, 
And mark the beauty of thy form, 
And not my love avow. 
Canterbury bell, I now confess 
I love thee from my heart; 
O wilt thou now be mine, sweet love, 
And never from me part. 
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Teach thee their language! Sweet, I know no 
tongue, 
No mystic art those gentle things declare ; 
I ne’er could trace the schoolman’s trick among 
Created things, so delicate and rare. 
Their language, prythee! Why they are them¬ 
selves 
But bright thoughts syllabled to shape and hue, 
