LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
ADONIS SLEEPING, 
In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth 
Of fondest beauty. Sideway his face reposed 
On one white arm, and tenderly unclosed, 
By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth 
To slumbery pout; just as the morning south 
Disparts a dew-lipp’d rose. Above his head, 
Four lily stalks did their white honours wed 
To make a coronal; and round him grew 
All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, 
Together intertwined and trammel’d fresh : 
The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, 
Shading its Ethiop berries ; and woodbine, 
Of velvet leaves, and bugle blooms divine. 
Hard by. 
Stood serene Cupids watching silently. 
One, kneeling to a lyre, touch’d the strings, 
Muffling to death the pathos with his wings ; 
And, ever and anon, uprose to look 
At the youth’s slumber ; while another took 
A willow bough, distilling odorous dew. 
And shook it on his hair; another flew 
In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise. 
Rain’d violets upon his sleeping eyes. 
Keats. 
Modonna, wherefore hast thou sent to me 
Sweet Basil and Mignonette, 
Embleming love and health, which never yet 
In the same wreath might be. 
Alas, and they are wet! 
Is it with thy kisses or thy tears ? 
For never rain or dew 
Such fragrance drew 
From plant or flower; the very doubt endears 
My sadness ever new, 
The sighs I breathe, the tears I shed, for thee. 
P. B. Shelley. 
74 
