PLATONIC LOVE. 221 
blooming acacia. The young savage, like the 
city coquette, understands this seducing lan- 
guage, and receives blushing the homage of him 
who has won her heart by respect and by 
love. 
It is not more than a century since the fo- 
rests of Canada yielded us this beautiful tree. 
The botanist Robin, who first brought it us, 
gave it his name. The acacia, when spreading 
its light shade in our groves, with its scented 
flowers, and sweet and fresh verdure, seems to 
prolong the spring. The nightingale loves to 
confide its nest to this new inhabitant of our 
climate; the lovely bird, assured by the long 
and strong thorns which protect its family, 
sometimes descends upon the lowest branches 
of the tree, to make its ravishing notes the 
better heard. 
The acacia has been made the emblem of 
domestic beauty by an anonymous writer, who 
thus speaks of it: Tints of the white, the 
golden, and the red rose are beautifully inter- 
mingled with the rich blossoms of the acacia. 
It is found in the most retired places, and it 
blooms the fairest in the closeness of its own 
foliage. It loves the mossy rock and the soli- 
tary grove, and pines away in the gay garden 
and crowded parterre. Nourmahal sings, 
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair 















