LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS 
He sings on the laburnum trees, 
Amid the twilight dim, 
And Araby ne’er gave the breeze 
Such scents as thou to him. 
Rich is the pink, the lily gay. 
The rose is summer’s guest: 
Bland are thy charms when these decay - 
Of flowers first, last, and best! 
There may be gaudier in the bower. 
And statelier on the tree — 
But 'Wallflower, loved Wallflower, 
Thou art the flower for me! 
