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THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
SWEET LAVENDER. 
BY MISS STRICKLAND. 
Sweet lavender! I love thy flower 
Of meek and modest blue, 
Which meets the morn and evening hour 
The storm, the sunshine, and the shower. 
And changcth not its hue. 
In cottage-maid’s parterre thou’rt seen. 
In simple touching grace ; 
And in the garden of the queen, 
Midst costly plants and blossoms sheen, 
1 hou also hast a place. 
The rose, with bright and peerless bloom, 
Attracted many eyps; 
But while her glories and perfume 
Expire before brief summer’s doom, 
Thy fragrance never dies. 
Thou art not like the fickle tram 
Our adverse fates estrange ; 
Who, in the day of grief and pain, 
Are found deceitful, light, and vain, 
r or thou dost never change. 
