20 
As soon as all were in full enjoyment of the 
bright sunshine, the Crocus, dressed in Cloth of 
Gold, again looked up to Mary and said—“ And 
now sweet little one, I suppose you are impatient 
to hear my story, for I heard what my dear friend 
Snow-drop promised you. A beautiful poet who 
sang a long song about Paradise—” 
Little Mary wondered how flowers could know 
any thing about poets. 
“ I know what you arc thinking of,” said the 
Crocus, “ but do you not know that poets and 
flowers are born to know each other? I do not 
understand why it is, but whenever a poet comes 
near me, I always look up and speak to him, and 
see myself shine back again from two dear little 
looking-glasses, that are sometimes set in the 
brightest sapphire, sometimes in lustrous jet, and 
