
aining, 
iing, 

THE POETRY OF FLOWERS, 
Cume! from her stores we'll cull the bes 
Thy bosom to adorn; 
Each leaf in livelier verdure drest, 
Each blossom balmier than the rest, 
Each rose without a thorn ; 
Fleet tints, that with the rainbow died, 
Brief flowers, that withered in their pride 
Shall, blushing into light, awake 
And kindlier bloom, for thy dear sake. 
And first—though eft, alas! condemnad, 
Like merit, to the shade— 
The Primrose meek, with dews begemmed, 
Shall sparkle in the braid: 
And there, as sisters, side by side, 
(Genius with modesty allied,) 
The Pink’s bright red, the Viclet’s blue, 
In blended rays, shall greet our view, 
Each lovelier for the other’s hue. 
How soft yon Jasmine’s sunlit glow, 
How chaste yon Lily’s robe of snow, 
With Myrtle green inwove, 
Types, dearest, of thyself and me— 
Of thy mild grace and purity, 
And my unchanging love, 
Of grace and purity, like thine, 
And love, undying love, like mine. 





