The Poetry of Flowers. 
119 
DECISION OF THE FLOWER. 
BY L. E. L. 
And with scarlet Poppies, around like a bower, 
The maiden found her mystic flower. 
“ Now, gentle flower, I pray thee, tell 
If my lover loves me, and loves me well: 
So may the fall of the morning dew 
Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue. 
Now I number the leaves for my lot— 
He loves not—he loves me—he loves me not— 
He loves me—yes, thou last leaf, yes— 
I’ll pluck thee not for the last sweet guess ! 
He loves me!"—“Yes,” a dear voice sighed, 
And her lover stands by Margaret’s side. 
THE SHEPHERD TO THE FLOWERS. 
BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 
Sweet Violets, love’s paradise, that spread 
Your gracious odours, which you, couched, bear 
Within your paly faces, 
Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind, 
That plays amidst the plain ! 
If, by the favour of propitious stars, you gain 
Such grace as in my lady’s bosom place to find, 
Be proud to touch those places : 
And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear, 
Whereby her dainty parts are sweetly fed, 
You, honours of the flowery meads, I pray, 
You pretty daughters of the earth and sun, 
With mild and seemly breathing straight display 
My bitter sighs, that have my heart undone ! 
