88 
POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
i 
“ By a prophetic poppy-leaf I found 
Your changed affection; for it gave no sound, 
Though in my hand struck hollow, as it lay, 
But quickly withered, like your love, away.” 
In the Apple-blossom we see the Lily and the Rose 
blended together, like a blush softening into the snowy 
whiteness of a sweet face, — decking, peradventure, 
some countenance that we secretly love—a love which, 
from very fear, we dare not give utterance to, lest some j 
other should already be preferred. It may be, too, that 
at the same time we already stand high in her estima¬ 
tion, and yet her innate modesty causes her to shrink 
back from revealing it; and so we go on dallying and 
sighing together, like the spring breeze playing in and 
out a bunch of Apple-blossoms, then quitting them 
until the warmer air of ihe bolder summer comes forth, j 
and ripens the blushing blossoms into the full fruit of 
mellowed love. Of all the beauties which Spring, 
stepping forth, hangs upon the trees, leaving a wieath 
here and a garland there, the loveliest of all her rich 
decorations is still the opening Apple-blossom the 
emblem of Preference in Love. 
