108 
LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
wild woodland ; whatsoever ye plant, it shall still 
overtop, until its fragrant head is buried and lost 
amid the green foliage of the trees. All the sweet 
odours of summer shall float around its feet, and 
it shall receive homage from every flower of the 
forest. 
“Stop, beautiful sister,” said another fair spirit* 
pointing upward her white finger with an arch look, 
as she rose from the high pile of flowers by which 
she was surrounded: “ seest thou that old grey 
naked rock, which stood like a lonely ruin, even 
amid the silence and darkness of Chaos? for 
many a day had I looked upon it with an eye of 
pity as it stood there, grand in its very solitariness, 
majestic in its own desolation, and looking noble, 
though bearing the impress of ruin. Hovering 
around it in the early sunbeams of morning, I 
thought how its cold aged bosom might he com¬ 
forted if I threw but a handful of flowers there, 
and I guessed aright. Sister, look up, and behold 
how beautifully those wild Wallflowers wave; even 
the banded bee hath winged his way to that dizzy 
height, allured by their surpassing sweetness. I 
will not dispute with thee the tall sovereignty over 
the flowers of the forest, but wherever a grey ruin 
rears, though it reaches even to the foot of the low, 
dark thunder-clouds, there shall the fragrant Wall- 
