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LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Fei’n throws its dark-green arms over the spot, 
unchanged by the changes of long centuries. It is 
associated with our oldest fairy legends,— creations 
of some old forgotten poet’s fancy, that in 
“ The middle-summer’s spring, 
Met on hill, in dale, forest, or by mead, 
By favored fountain, or by rushy brook, 
Or on the beachhd margin of the sea, 
And danced their ringlets to the whistling wind.” 
And our simple ancestors believed that they had 
but to find the true “Fern seed,” and carry it about 
with them, to become invisible. What would not 
a fond lover give for a packet of this fabulous seed, 
that he might at any hour steal unperceived into 
the presence of his mistress 1 But, alas! the secret 
was carried away with the fairies, when they were 
driven, with bell, book, and candle, from the green 
and daisied meadows of merry England. 
DAISIES. 
“ The daisy it is sweet.”—C haucer. 
’T was when the world was in its prime, 
When meadows green and woodlands wild 
Were strewn with flowers, in sweet spring-time, 
And everywhere the Daisies smiled ; 
