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POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
now MAY WAS FIRST MADE. 
As Spring - upon a silver cloud 
Lay looking - on the world below, 
Watching the breezes as they bowed 
The buds and blossoms to and fro, 
She saw the fields with Hawthorns walled : 
Said Spring, “ New buds I will create.” 
She to a Flower-Spirit called, 
Who on the month of May did wait, 
And bade her fetch a Hawthorn-spray, 
That she might make the buds of May. 
Said Spring, The grass looks green and bright, 
The Hawthorn-hedges too are green, 
I’ll sprinkle them with flowers of light, 
Such stars as earth has never seen ; 
And all through England’s girded vales, 
Her steep hill-sides and haunted streams. 
Where woodlands dip into the dales, 
Where’er the Hawthorn stands and dreams, 
Where thick-leaved trees make dark the day, 
1 ’!! light each nook with flowers of May. 
