





































THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
But this bold floweret climbs the hil 
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen 
Stays on the margin of the rill, 
Peeps round the fox’s den. 
Within the garden’s cultured round 
It shares the sweet carnation’s bed ; 
And blooms in consecrated ground 
In honour of the dead. 
The lambkin crops its crimson gem, 
The wild-bee murmurs on its breast 
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem, 
Light o’er the skylark’s nest. 
Tig Flora’s page :—in every place, 
In every season, fresh and fair, 
It opens with perennial grace, 
And blossoms every where. 
On waste and woodland, rock and plait 
Sts humble buds unheeded rise ; 
The rose has but a summer reign, 
The daisy never dies. 
Trou { 
Pride 
lnyern 
Thy 
‘Tis no 
Sinks 
When « 
Afri 
Nor fro 
Bene 
Where 
Thoy 
Tis no 
Thy 
To fane 
One 
T hey ty 
And 
And tel 
Ag gr 
