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Till', POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Be thine the offering, owing long, 
To thee, and to this pensive hour, 
Of the brief tributary song, 
Though transient as thy flower. 
Bernard Barton. 
FERN.— Sincerity. 
The Foxgloves and the Fern, how gracefully they 
grow, ' s 
With grand old oaks above them, and wavy grass 
below! 
The stately trees stand round, like columns fair and 
high, 
And the spreading branches bear a glorious canopy 
Of leaves, that rustling wave in the whispering summer 
air, 
And gaily greet the sunbeams that are falling brightly 
there. 
Romance of Flowers. 
Miss Twamley, speaking of the Fern, thus sings:— 
The green and graceful Fern, how beautiful it is ! 
There’s not a leaf in all the land so wonderful I wis. 
Have ye ever watched it budding, with each stem and 
leaf wrapped small, 
Coiled up within each other like a round and hairy 
ball? 
Have ye watched that ball unfolding each closely nest¬ 
ling curl, 
And its fair and feathery leaflets their spreading forms 
unfurl ? 
