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THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Gift of gold or jewel dresses 
Ostentation’s thought confesses ; 
Simplest mind this boon may give, 
Modesty herself receive. 
For lovely woman you wete meant 
The just and natural ornament, 
Sleeping on her bosom fair, 
Hiding in her raven hair, 
Or, peeping out mid golden curls. 
You outshine barbaric pearls; 
Yet you lead no thought astray, 
Teed not pride nor vain display, 
Nor disturb her sisters’ rest, 
Waking envy in their breast. 
Let the rich, with heart elate, 
Pile their board with costly plate 
Richer ornaments are ours, 
We will dress our home with flowers , 
Yet no terror reed we feel 
Lest ‘he thief break through to steal. 
Ye are playthings for the child, 
Gifts of love for maiden mild, 
Comfort for the aged eye, 
For the poor, cheap luxury. 
Though your life is but a day, 
Precious things, dear flowers, you say. 
Telling that the Being good 
Who supplies our daily food, 
Deems it needful to supply 
Daily food for heart and eye. 
a ol ep ee re |) ee eee 
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