LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, 
ARRANGEMENT OF A 
BOUQUE T. 
Here damask Roses, white and red. 
Out of my lap first take I, 
Which still shall run along the thread, 
My chiefest flower this make I, 
Amongst these Roses in a row, 
Next place I Pinks in plenty. 
These double Pansies then for show ; 
And will not this be dainty? 
The pretty Pansy then I’ll tie. 
Like stones some chain inchasing ; 
And next to them, their near ally, 
The purple Violet placing. 
The curious choice clove July flower, 
Whose kind hight the Carnation, 
For sweetnest of most sovereign power, 
Shall help my wreath to fashion ; 
Whose sundry colours of one kind, 
First from one root derived, 
Them in their several suits I’ll bind: 
My garland so contrived. 
A course of Cowslips then I'll stick, 
And here and there (though sparely) 
The pleasant Primrose down I’ll prick, 
Like pearls that will show rarely; 
Then with these Marigolds I’ll make 
My garland somewhat swelling, 
These Honeysuckles then I’ll take. 
Whose sweets shall help their smelling. 
The Lily and the Fleur-de-lis, 
For colour much contending , 
For that I them do only prize, 
They are but poor in scenting. 
The Daffodil most dainty is, 
To match with these in meetness ; 
The Columbine compared to this, 
All much alike for sweetness. 
These in their natures only are ^ 
Fit to emboss the border, 
Therefore I’ll take especial care 
To place them in their order : 
Sweet-williams, Campions, Sops-in-wine, 
One by another neatly ; 
Thus have 1 made this wreath of mine. 
And finished it featly. 
Nicholas Drayton. 
THE CHERRY. 
There is a garden in her face. 
Where roses and white lilies grow; 
A heavenly paradise is that place, 
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow; 
There cherries grow that none may buy 
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
Those cherries fairly do enclose 
Of orient pearl a double row, 
Which, when her lovely laughter shows, 
They look like rosebuds fill’d with snow ; 
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy 
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
Her eyes like angels watch them still, 
Her brows like bended bows do stand. 
Threatening with piercing frowns to kill 
All that approach with eye or hand 
These sacred cherries to come nigh. 
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
Richard Allison 
76 
