THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
135 
Her flower, the vestal nun who (lone) abideth; 
Her breath, that of celestials meekly wooed 
From heaven ; her leaf, the holy veil which hideth 
Her from the shrine where purity resideth; 
Spring’s darling, nature’s pride, the sylvan’s queen. 
THE LIME TREE.— Conjugal Love. 
A murmur of the bee 
Dwells ever in the honied Lime. 
Mrs. Hemans. 
TO A LOVER OF FLOWERS. 
Still, gentle lady, cherish flowers— 
True fairy friends are they, 
On whom, of all thy cloudless hours, 
Not one is thrown away ; 
By them, unlike man’s ruder race, 
No care conferr’d is spurned, 
But all thy fond and fostering grace 
A thousand-fold return’d. 
The rose repays thee all thy smiles— 
The stainless lily rears, 
Dew in the chalice of its wiles, 
As sparkling as thy tears. 
The glances of thy gladden’d eyes 
Not thanklessly are pour’d; 
In the blue violet’s tender dyes 
Behold them all restored. 
Yon bright carnation—once thy cheek 
Bent o’er it in the bud; 
