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SENTIMENT OF FLOWERS. 
MYRTLE. —Love. 
There is to youth one love. 
Intense, devoted, pure, 
One dream, all other dreams above, 
Deep, passionate, and sure. 
Its colors blend with every jov, 
In every hope^fre wrought; 
It is the load star to the boy, 
His sole engrossing thought. 
J. H. Bright, 
Love will bear 
What would weigh down an angel’s wing to earth, 
A^d still look heavenward. 
L. E. L. 
“ It is an ever fixed mark, 
It is the star of every wandering bark, 
It looks on tempests and is never shaken.” 
Shaksteare. 
We loved: our love was like a chord of music, 
Such as the wind that sweeps a lute draws forth, 
Meeting a passive echo from another. 
It was a vision such as blessed spirits 
Dream of in heaven, their earthly days recalling. 
Haul 
The world that I had known went by 
As a vain shadow, on mine eye 
There rose a new and dreamful one, 
’Twas like the cloudy realms that lie, 
Shadowy and brief, in Autumn’s sky 
Before the setting sun. 
W HITTIER. 
I loved, as those love who but one image know 
In the blue sky above, on the bright earth below: 
I had not a thought in which thou hadst no part 
In the wide world T sought but a place in thy heart. 
L. E. L. 
