THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 249 



met 
welcome, little English flower ! || 
3 : ; scenes beloved by me | 
opy in my father’s bow of | 
1 shalt the blithe memorial be; | 
The fairy sports of infancy, | 
1] Youth’s golden age, and manhood’s prime, | 
Home, country, kindred, friends,—with thee 
Are mine in this far clime. I 
Thrice welcome, little English flower | 
I'l] rear thee with a trembling hand; | 
a i/ O for the April sun and shower, | 
| The t eet May-dews of that fair land, 1 
Where daisies, thick as star-light, stand | 
oa ead walk !—that here might shoot} || 
Thy scions, and thy buds expand, 
A hundred from one root! 
| 
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| Thrice welcome, little English flower! 
To me the pledge of hope unseen: | 
When sorrow would my soul o’ etpower 1 
For joys that were, or might have been, | 
T'll eall to mind, howasteeh h and green— 
I saw thee waking from the dust; | 
|| Then turn to heaven, with brow serene, 
And place in 


