INTRODUCTION. 
21 
or scorn, upon the various passengers who pass their latticed 
windows.” 
In the gardens of the East, Flora receives the homage due 
for her widely-scattered and various gifts. Oh! flowers— 
flowers — we may well think them the “alphabet of the an¬ 
gels.” But how coldly do we look on them; how often are 
we regardless of their charms here; while in other lands they 
almost subserve the use of writing—expressing by a blossom, 
joy, grief, hope, despair, devotion, piety, and almost every sen¬ 
timent that fills the mind. 
In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, 
And they tell in a garland their loves and cares ; 
Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, 
On its leaves a mystic language bears. 
The rose is the sign of joy and love, 
Young blushing love in its earliest dawn 
And the mildness that suits the gentle dove, 
From the myrtle’s snowy flower is drawn. 
Innocence dwells in the lily’s bell, 
Pure as a heart in its native heaven ; 
Fame’s bright star and glory’s swell, 
By the glossy leaf of the bay are given. 
The silent, soft, and humble heart 
In the violet’s hidden sweetness breathes ; 
And the tender soul that cannot part, 
A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes. 
The cypress that darkly shades the grave, 
Is sorrow that mourns its bitter lot; 
And faith that a thousand ills can brave, 
Speaks in thy blue leaves, Forget-me-not. 
Then gather a wreath from the garden bowers, 
And tell the wish of thy heart in flowers. 
I 
I 
Pekcival. 
