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THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
And as I gaze upon its cup 
Shining with burnished gold, 
The faithful memory calls up 
How many a friend beloved of old! 
Miss Twamley thus heartily refers to them:— 
Oh ! I can now recall th’ unthrift delight 
That filled my basket and my tiny hand, 
"With Buttercups that shone in burnished gold! 
CANDYTUFT.— Indifference. 
The seasons appear to pass by this plant without 
affecting it. How different to the changes in nature 
generally which beautiful Spring produces:— 
See the young, the rosy Spring, gives to the breeze her 
spangled wing; 
While virgin graces, warm with May, fling roses o’er 
her dewy way! 
The murmuring billows of the deep have languished 
into silent sleep ; 
And mark ! the flitting sea-birds lave their plumes in 
the reflecting wave ; 
While cranes from hoary winter fly to flutter in a 
kinder sky. 
Now the genial star of day dissolves the murky clouds 
away; 
And cultured field, 'and winding stream, are sweetly 
tissued by his beam. 
Now the earth prolific swells with leafy buds and 
flowery bells; 
Gemming shoots the olive twine, clusters ripe festoon 
the vine; 
