THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 47 
** We meet,” thou said’st, “tnough sever’d by 
the tomb: 
Lo. brother, this is heav’n! And thus the jusi 
shall bloom.’ ’ 
BLESSED BE GOD FOR FLOWERS. 
Suggested by seeing my youngest child asleep, with 
Wild Flowers grasped in its hand. 
BY MRS. CHARLES TINSLEY. 
Blessed be God for flowers! 
For the bright, gentle, holy thoughts, that breathe 
From out their odorous beauty, like a wreath 
Of sunshine on life’s hours ! 
Lightly upon thine eye 
Hath fallen the noon-tide sleep, my joyous b,ird : 
And through thy parted lips the breath, scarce 
heard, 
Comes like a summer sigh. 
One rosy hand is thrown 
Beneath thy rosier cheek: the other holds 
A group of sweet field-flowers, whose bloom 
unfolds 
A freshness like thine own 
