THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
THE FLOWER. 
LANDON. 
AN D with scarlet poppies, around like a bower, 
he maiden found her mystic flower. 
‘ Now, peuue flower, I ies — tell 
If my lover loves me, and loves me well: 
So may “ fall of the morning dew 
Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue, 
Now I number the leaves for my lot— 
He loves not—he loves me—he loves me not 
He loves me—yes, thou last leaf, yes— 
I'll pluck thee not for the last sweet gues 
He loves me !’’—‘‘ Yes,”’ a dear voice sig oh’ 
And her lover stands by, Margaret’s side. 
eo 
THE SNOW-DROP. 
BY MARY ROBINSON, 
Tue snowdrop, Winter’s timid ch uild, 
Awakes to life, bedew’d with tears 
? ? 
And flings around its fragrance mild: 
oe > 5 = 9 
And, where no rival Howes ty Nee 
Amidst et illi 
A beauteous gem 
14 
are 


