THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, My 
| BOWING ADORERS. 
| BY CLARE. 
| Bowine adorers of the gale, | 
Ye Cowslips delicately pa ale, | 
Upraise your loaded stems ; | 
Unfold your cups in splendour, speak ! 
Who deck’d you with that ruddy streak, 
And gilt your golden gems ? 

Violets, sweet tenants of the shade, 
|| In purple’s richest pride array’d, | 
ts \\ Yourerrand here f fil; 
wei || x our errand nere ful | 
f || Go bid the artist’s simple strain | 
| . : | 
| Your lustre imitate in vain, || 
| And match your Maker’s skill. | 
|| Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth. 
| Embroiderers of the carpet earth, 
That stud the velvet sod ; 
Open to Spring’s refre shing alr, 
i In sweetest smiling pies declare 
Your Maker, and my God, 



sg BR 

