86 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 
The German peasant wreathes his roof ;with flower in rich 
attire, 
For sun-tressed Iris waves for him her urns of fragrant fire: 
But we have let a holier gein our lowly home illume; — 
The flower of love our lattice Jghts with undecaying bloom. 
f. s. o. | 
FLATTERY. 
venus’s looking-glass. 
As soon as the sun sheds its golden light upon our cornfields, 
we see shining in the midst, the bright purple corollas of the 
starry flowers of this pretty species of campanula, which, from 
its resemblance to a mirror, has been named Venus’s looking- 
glass. If the sun’s rays be intercepted by clouds, these beauti¬ 
ful flowers immediately close, as at the approach of night. 
There is an ancient fable which tells us that Venus accidental¬ 
ly let one of her mirrors fall on the earth. A shepherd found 
it, and casting his eyes upon the glass, which had the power 
of adorning the object it reflected, he forgot his mistress, and 
had no other wish than to admire himself. Love, who feared 
the consequences of so foolish an error, broke the glass, and 
transformed the remains into this pretty plant. 
Beautiful ? yes! Those deep-blue eyes 
On heaven have gazed, till they caught its dyes; 
Thou hast been seeking the rose, to sip 
its dewy bloom for thy balmy lip; 
Thou hast been out in the radiant air, 
Wooing the sun with thy wavy hair; 
