THE POETRY OP FLOWERS. 
47 
PINE, PITCH. 
Found from Canada to Carolina. Leaves dark green 
and glossy. 
TIME AND FAITII. 
Wait thou for Time, hut to thy heart take Faith, 
Soft beacon-light upon a stormy sea: 
A mantle for the pure in heart, to pass 
Through a dim world, untouched by living death. 
A cheerful watcher through the spirit’s night. 
Soothing the grief from which she may not flee_ 
A herald of glad news—a seraph bright. 
Pointing to sheltering havens yet to be. 
Miss Lucy Hooper. 
-♦- 
PINE, SPRUCE. 
HOPE IN ADVERSITY. 
The cloud may be dark, but there’s sunshine beyond it; 
The night may be o’er us, but morning is near; 
The vale may be deep, but there’s music around it; 
And hope, ’mid our anguish, bright hope is still 
here. 
Still here, though the wing of dark sorrow is o’er us, 
Though bitterness dregs every cup that we drink ; 
With a smile in her eye, she glides ever before us. 
To yield us support when we falter or sink. 
Blessed hope ! like a star on the darkness of ocean. 
Still gleam o’er the track where our destinies tend ; 
And guide our frail hearts from this sea of commotion. 
To havens of peace where our sorrows will end. 
-♦- 
PINK, CARNATION. 
woman’s love. 
A love all sacrifice and suffering; a star 
That gathers lustre from the gloom of night; 
A martyr’s fond idolatry; a f'aitll 
Baptized in tears, to sorrow consecrate. 
Mas. Whitman. 
- * - 
PINK, RED DOUBLE. 
Root perennial. Flowers very fragrant. 
PURE AFFECTION. 
I never have loved thee ;—yet strange though it be. 
So soft are the feelings I cherish for thee, 
That the wildest of passions could never impart 
More joy to my soul, or more bliss to my heart. 
They come o’er my breast in my happiest hours, 
They come like the south^vind that ruffles the flowers. 
A thrilling of softness, a thrilling of bliss— 
Say, is there no name for a passion like this ? 
It cannot he friendship—it cannot be love ; 
Vet I know the sweet feeling descends from above. 
For it takes from my bosom no portion of ease, 
1 et adds all the rapture, the pleasure of these : 
For so soft the emotion my spirit hath nursed. 
It is warm as the last, and more pure than the first; 
For my heart when near thine grows soft as a dove— 
\ et it cannot be friendship—it cannot be love. 
Mrs. A mem a B. Wiilb v. 
- ♦ - 
POLYANTHUS. 
PRIDE OF RICHES. 
I grieve to see thco vain and proud—I grieve. 
That this world’s honours have enticed thy heart. 
Such haughty airs become thee not. For me, 
I better love a modest mien and look 
Than all the gaudy tinsel wealth can buy, 
Or vanity display. Put by thy pride. 
And by a holy life earn nobler praise 
Than such as pomp and idle show can win. 
Man’s love lives but with hope; while woman's heart 
Still echoes to the music of the past. 
