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THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
£30 
Is there a heart that loves the spring, 
Their witness can refuse ? 
Yet mortals doubt, when angels bring 
From heaven their Easter news: 
When holy maids and matrons speak 
Of Christ’s forsaken bed, | 
And voices, that forbid to seek 
The living ’mid the dead ; | 
And when they say, ‘‘ Turn, vandering hear 
‘Thy Lord is risen indeed, 
Let pleasure g0, put care apart, || 
And to his presence speed ;”’ || 
We smile in scorn: and yet we know 
They early sought the tomb, | 
Their hearts that now so freshly glow, | 
Lost in desponding gioom. | 
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They who have sought, nor hope te find, 
Wear not so bright a glance: 1 
They who have won their earthly mind, | 
Less revorently advance. | 

But where, in gentle spirits, fear 
And joy so duly meet, 
"hese sure have seen the at sels near, 

