
dead, 

The Poetry of Flowers. 

THE AMARANTH. 
MILTON. 
CROWNS inwove with Amaranth and gold, 
Immortal Amaranth, a flower which once 
In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life, 
Began to bloom ; but soon, for man’s offence, 
To Heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows 
And flowers aloft, shading the Fount of Life, 
And where the River of Bliss, through midst of 
Heaven, 
Rolls o’er Elysian flowers her amber stream ; 
With these, that never fade, the spirits elect 
Bind their resplendent locks. 

THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 
BY T. MOORE, 
*TIs the last Rose of summer 
Left blooming alone, 
All her lovely companions 
Are faded and gone ; 
No flower of her kindred, 
No Rosebud is nigh, 
To reflect back her blushes 
And give sigh for sigh. 
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, 
To pine on the stem ; 
Since the lovely are sleeping, 
Go sleep thou with them. 
