£28 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Oh ! yes, sweet Sister, I have seen 
Harth’s fairest child; the Flower Queen. 
Hear you the wild birds, how they sing, 
Welcome, welcome, lovely Spring ! 
ifail! hail! they gaily sing, 
Welcome, welcome, lovely Spring. 
As from my fairy bower I flew, 
The daisy donn’d her dress of dew 3 
And violets left there leaflets green, 
To welcome Spring, the Flower Queen. 
She comes, she comes ! with shout and song; 
I see her tripping ’mid the throng ; 
While wood, and mead, and forest ring 
With welcomes to the lovely Spring. 
Pea 
I senp thee lilies given to me; 
Though, long beforethy hand they touch, 
I know that they must withered be; 
But yet reject them not as such ; 
For I have cherished them as dear, 
Because they yet may meet thine eye, 
And guide thy soul to mine even here, 
When thou beholdst them drooping nigh, 
And know’st them gathered by the Rhine, 
And offered from my heart to thine! 




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