THE 
LANGUAGE OE ELOWEES. 
LOYE AND THE ELOWEES. 
Upon a bed of roses Love reclined. 
The heart-dyed flowers across his mouth were thrown, 
An ri both their sweets were in one breath combined. 
As if they from the self-same bud had blown ; 
You could not tell, so sweetly were they blended, 
"Where swelled Love’s cfimson lip, nor where the rose-bloom ended. 
It was in that age, when the golden mornings 
of the early world were unclouded by the smoke 
of cities ; when the odours from thousands of un¬ 
trodden flowers mingled with the aroma of old 
forests, and the gentlest wind that ever tried its 
wings flapped its way through vast realms of sleep¬ 
ing fragrance—that Love first set out to discover 
the long-lost Language of the Flowers. There had 
B 
