





POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The Bindweed, with its graceful bell, as pure as 
snow on Highland fell ; 
The Meadow-sweet, o’er sparkling well, like pil- 
grim nun of old ; 
The stately Foxglove on the rock; the purple 
Heath on lone hill-top ; 
The sweet Woodbine, the trailing Hop ; the Brook- 
lime blue and cold. 
The drooping Harebell in the wood ; the modest 
Two-Face-under-Hood ; 
The pale blue flower beside the flood, for which 
the brave knight died ; 
The Snowdrop bending by the tomb; the golden 
Furze, and tassell’d Broom ; 
The Dog-rose, with its crimson bloom, flushing 
the dark hedgesside. 
With many a floweret rich and bright, whose 
beauty glads the wondering sight, 
Flinging their fragrance through the night, o’er 
many a vale and hill ; 
With colours golden, crimson, and blue; rich in 
fragrance and bright of hue, 
Fair as the birds that above them flew—Sweet 
Flowers! I love them still! 
























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