il 




































{ WN 
Sadi) 



106 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
ROSE. 
LOVE. 
Wuo that ever could sing has not sung the 
Rose! The poets have not exaggerated its 
beauty, or completed its panegyric. They have 
called it daughter of heaven, ornament of the 
earth, glory of spring: but what expressions 
could ever do justice to the charms of this beau- 
tiful flower! Look at it gracefully rising from 
its elegant foliage, surrounded by its numerous 
buds: you would say that this queen of flowers 
sports with the air which fans her; that she de- 
corates herself with the dew-drops which im- 
pearl her; that she smilingly meets the sunny 
rays which expand her bosom. Nature seems 
to have exhausted all her skill in the freshness, 
the beauty of form, the fragrance, the delicate 
colour, and the gracefulness, which she has be- 
stowed upon the Rose. And then, it embellishes 
the whole earth; it is the commonest of flowers. 







