| THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 47 
cB | * We meet,’’ thou said’st, ‘‘ though sever’d by 
| 
the tomb: 
Lo, brother, this is heav’n! And thus the just 
stall bloom.”’ 
| BLESSED BE GOD FOR FLOWERS. 
Suggested by seeing my youngest child asleep, with 
Wild Flowers grasped in its hand. 
BY MRS. CHARLES TINSLEY. 

Busssep be God for flowers! 
| For the bright, gentle, holy thoughts, that breathe 
| From out their odorous beauty, like a wreath 
| Of sunshine on life’s hours! 
& 
4G 
| Lightly upon thine eye 
Hath fallen the noon-tide sleep, my joyous bird : 
And through thy parted lips the breath, scarce 
heard, 
| Comes like a summer sigh. || 
| One rosy hand is thrown 
| Beneath thy rosier cheek: the other holds 
| A group of sweet field-flowers, whose bloom 
unfolds 
A. freshness like thine own 
= 




we 
se 

