

= 

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POETRY OF FLOWERS. 18 
Tho’ fortune frowns on her, and want may be 
pressing, 
Her heart seems as happy and light as the 
gale ; ' 
No father has she—yet a mother's fond blessing 
Goes with her each morn from her cot in the 
dale. 
Have you seen the young rose, when its bud is 
expanding P 
"Tis an emblem of her, nor more fair to the 
view : 
Tfave you seen the fresh violet with pearl-drops 
depending P 
It is not more bright than her eye’s lovely 
blue. 
Ifer pinks and her roses, bound neatly with 
rushes, 
How sweet their perfume! and how fair to 
the eye! 
But neither can vie with her cheeks’ modest 
blushes, 
When she curt’sies, and asks the young stran- 
ger to buy! 
May the heart, lovely maid, that can ever deceive 
thee — 
First steal thy affections in life’s early hours, 







