112 
LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
SUMMER. 
Come away! the sunny hours 
Woo thee far to founts and bowers ! 
O’er the very waters now, 
In their play, 
Flowers are shedding beauty’s glow : 
Come away ! 
Where the lily’s tender gleam 
Quivers on the glowing stream, 
Come away ! 
All the air is fill’d with sound, 
Soft, and sultry, and profound; 
Murmurs through the shadowy grass 
Lightly stray ; 
Faint winds whisper as they pass 
Come away! 
Where the bee’s deep music swells 
From the trembling foxglove bells— 
Come away ! 
