VI] 1 
PREFACE. 
wreath they have left unfinished, I trust that I 
have done something towards the completion of 
a work which shall be worthy of the name of 
England’s Language of Flowers. 
In the legends which illustrate each sentiment, 
or group of flowers, I have endeavoured to create 
a new interest, by linking them with human 
affections and fanciful narratives, the origin 
of which may either he traced in the old 
heathen writers, or found amid the lighter lore 
of our own day. Not that I have fettered myself 
to any given rules, or chained my fancy to any 
circumscribed space; for I will not yet believe 
that there is 
“ So small a range 
In the present strength of manhood, that the high 
Imagination cannot freely fly, 
As she was wont of old 
but that she can, as in former days, spread out 
her free wings when she listeth, and 
“ Show us all, 
From the clear space of ether to the small 
Breath of new buds unfolding:” 
tor .1 have more faith in the love of my country 
for the old fanciful literature, than many have. 
To me England has ever been an island “ full of 
sweet sounds that give delight and hurt not:” 
