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THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
TO THE CHINESE PRIMROSE. 
Lasting Love. 
am] LOWER of pale but lovely bloom, 

Given to grace my humble room, 
On my spirit’s waken’d sense, 
Pour thy silent eloquence. 
Fairer flowers which gardens bear, 
Proud exotics rear’d with care, 
Beautiful though they may be, 
Never can compare with thee. 
Faintly, while I look on thee, 
Seems the past again to be: 
Sights and sounds which then were dear 
Greet again my eye and ear. 
Grateful is it yet to feel 
In the heart thy mute appeal, 
Lingering greenness lurking there, 
Feelings such as these declare. 
Shed, then, on dark manhood’s gloom, 
Gleams of sunshine from thy bloom, 
Through whose spell the spirit seems 
Once more young in childhood’s dreams, 






















