
alli | 
ne, 

THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Our little gardens, side by side, 
Each border’d round with London pride 
Some six feet long, and three feet wide. 
To us a large estate ! 
The apple and the damson trees, 
The cottage shelter for our bees ; 
I see them—and beyond all these, 
A something dearer still ; 
I see an eye serenely blue, 
A cheek of girlhood’s freshest hue, 
A buoyant heart, a spirit true, 
Alike in good and ill. 
Sweet sister, thou wert all to me, 
And I sufficient friend for thee: 
Where was a happier twain than we 
Who had no mate beside ? 
Like wayside flowers in merry May; 
Our pleasures round about us lay 5 
A joyful morning had our day, 
Whate’ s* 2ur eve betide ! 


