





































THE BOUQUET. 

ID AKTTA 
CROCUS, 
Crocus OFFICINALIS. 
Cheerfulness. 
I CANNOT paint to thee the charm 
Which thou hast wrought in me ; 
Thy laugh, so like the wild bird’s song, 
In the first bloom-touched tree. 
L. E. Lanpon. 
Her looks were looks of melody, 
Her voice was like the swell 
Of sudden music, notes of mirth, 
That of wild gladness tell; 
She came, like spring, with pleasant sounds 
Of sweetness and of mirth; 
And her thoughts were those wild-flower ones 
That linger not on earth. 
Miss L. P. Surrz. 
Lovey thou art, ay, lovely ; 
And sorrow shared with thee, 
As if magician-changed, becomes 
A. pleasure unto me. 
Life’s sky, though clothed with tempest-clouds, 
Grows bright when thou art nigh, 
And tears e’er turn to smiles, beneath 
Thine angel-gifted eye. ~ Mrs. Scott. 

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