
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 19” 


> know the pure delight 
With which we gaze | 
Upon your glorious forms ?-—Are ye not zlad 
f’en in the praise 
Which our er nrapt tured wonder ever tells | 
While poring o’er the wealth that in ye dwells; 
Do not ye joy 

my 
That wealth of thought, of beauty, and of love, 
Which may be f | 
In each small common herh that springs from out 
‘he teeming ground ? 
Do not ye feel that ye do deeply bless 
Our harsher sauls by your dear loveliness ? 
Oh! if ’tis given unto ye to know 
The thrilling power 
Of memories. and thoughts that can be read 
E’en in a flower, | 
How ye must all rejoice nesent each look II 
Which reads your beauty, like an open book! 
We love its silent language: strong, though still, 
Is that unheard 
But all-pervading harmo wea breathes {| 
No utter’d word 
But floats around us, as, in happy dream, i 
We feel the soft sigh of a waveless stream. 
Bo, love of n 



