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POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
TIIE VALE OF ARCADIA, 
It was a pleasant vale in the olden time, 
When peaceful shepherds piped along the plains, 
And the young world was in its golden prime, 
When the green groves rung back their rustic strains, 
When the old forest was their only town, 
Their streets the flowery glades, their temples moun¬ 
tains brown. 
A winding stream flowed through that verdant valley, 
And pleasant music its sweet waters made, 
As with the drooping flowers it there did dally, 
Or, lower down, amid the pebbles played. 
Then brawled along through many a mossy maze, 
Here lit with struggling beams, there dark with droop¬ 
ing sprays. 
And sunny slopes of green and flowery ground, 
Went stretching far along the water’s edge, 
Seeming to listen to that slumberous sound ; 
For nought there moved save when the reedy sedge 
