







POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
BRING FLOWERS. 
BRING flowers, young flowers, for the festal board, 
To wreath the cup ere the wine is poured ; 
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and 
vale, 
Their breath floats out in a southern gale, 
And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the 
rose, 
To deck the hall where the bright wine flows. 
Bring flowers, to strew in the conqueror’s path— 
He that hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath! 
He comes with the spoil of nations back, 
The vines lie crushed in his chariot’s track. 
The turf looks red where he won the day— 
Bring flowers, to die in the conqueror’s way ! 
Bring flowers, to the captive’s lonely cell, 
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell; 
Of the free blue streams and the glowing sky, 
And the bright world shut from his languid eye; 
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours, 
And a dream of his youth,—bring him flowers, 
wild flowers ! 
Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear! 
They were born to blush in her shining hair, 



















