
THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Taste, ye mortals, also ; 
| Milky-hearted we ; 
Taste, but with a reverend care ; 
Active—- patient be. 
Too much gladness brings to gloom 
Those who on the gods presume. 
LEIGH HUNT. 

wy 
RAO: Sy-E ass 
Love. 
23, TILE we invoke the wreathéd Spring, 
Resplendent Rose! to thee we'll sing ; 
Resplendent Rose! the flower of 
flowers, 
Whose breath perfumes Olympus’ bowers ; 
Whose virgin blush, of chasten’d dye, 
Enchants so much our mortal eye. 
Oft has the poet’s magic tongue 
The Rose’s fair luxuriance sung ; 
And long the Muses, heavenly maids, 
Have rear’d it in their tuneful shades. 





















