n i rj 4 ter m m IVJIJ yj VV X 3 ^ ALBERT R. MANN LIBRARY AT CORNELL UNIVERSITY THE GIFT OF Isabel Zucker class '26 DATE DUE 9 GAYLORD ! PRINTED IN U.S.A. j \ / ■ Hi;/Hi LANGUAGE AND Poetry of Flowers SELECTED BY MRS. 0. M KIRTLAND. -V' » J (Jj ILLUSTRATED. CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: BELFORD, CLARKE & CO. 1884. V p) U-1- T PhJ ( p \\0 n L.& f /$? u PRINTED AND ROUND BY Donohue & Henneberry CHICAGO. CONTENTS. PAGE I .. FLORAL POESY. N Introductory Essay on Flowers, The Daisy. The Daisie.. . Chaucer . . 16 To the Daisy . . Wordsworth . . 16 To a Mountain Daisy. .Burns . . 17 The Snowdrop . . 19 The Snowdrop. . Westwood . . 19 66 66 . Wordsworth. . . 20 66 66 Mary Ilowitt . . 20 To the Snowdrop .. Kebh. 21 The Snowdrop. .Mrs. Robinson . . 24 6 6 6 6 . Anon . . 24 The Cowslip. The Cowslip. . Mrs. Stgou.rney . ... . 27 Cowslips. .Mary Ilowitt . . 27 The Cowslip.. . 29 The Crocus.. To a Crocus. . Barton . . 30 To the Crocus. .Patterson . . 32 The Apple-Blossom. . 33 Apple-Blossoms. .L. E. Landon . . 33 To Blossoms. . . Herrick . . 34 The Daffodil. Persephone. Jean Ingelow . 35 v vi CONTENTS Daffodils. PAGE 36 6 i The Violet . . 37 38 To a Fading Violet . .. . Shelley . . 40 Violets. 41 The Alpine Violet . . ., . 41 The Angry Violets .., . 42 Violets. . 42 A Bouquet of Spring Violets. .Shelley . . 43 A Violet Bank. . 43 The Violet. .. . 43 The Yellow Violet ... . 44 The Narcissus . Echo and Narcissus .. . 47 Narcissus. To a Mirror. Death of Narcissus .. . 48 Narcissus. . .... Cowper 49' To the Narcissus. . 49 The Narcissus. . 51 U if 51 ec a . 52 Buttercups . . Buttercups . . 52 The Hawthorn- . Going a Maying . . 56 if if . 57 The Primrose .. The Primrose. . 62 The Early Primrose.. .. . II. K. White . . 63 Primroses. . 63 Sad Primroses. . 64 To a Primrose. . 64 The Primrose . .. . 65 To Primroses.. . 66 A Bouquet. . M. E. Lee . . 67 The Hyacinth . . 67 The Hyacinth. . 68 Hyacintlius . . 69 CONTENTS. The Rosemary. To the Herb Rosemary. H. K. White. Die Herz Blume. Hood . The Lily of the Valley. J he Child and the Lily. Bryant . The Lily of the Valley. Croly . Ihe Lily. Percival . “ . Coleridge . I send the Lilies given to me ..Byron . The Pimpernel. Pimpernel.0. W. Holmes.. The Heart’s-ease. Heart’s-ease. Mary Howitt.... Origin of the Pansy’s Name . . Shalcspeare . Pansies.. .Bobt. Buchanan , Heart’s-ease........ Mrs. Sheridan,. .. o.............. . Anon . The Wallflower. . . The Wallflower . ........... .Moir . “ “ . . Anon . The Naming of the Wallflower .Herrick . The Forget-me-not.. The Bride of the Danube. Picfcersgill Forget-me-not. .. . Anon . “ ** . Moir . Song of the Forget-me-not. Forget-me-not.. New Monthly Mag. Can you forget Me. L. E. Landon . Forget-me-not. John Ingram _ The Hollyhock. The Rose.. The Dying Rosebud. Mrs. Osgood . The Lesson of a Rose. Spenser .. Zuleika’s Rose. Byron . The Rose. A Song of the Rose. Hemans . The Rose. Elton . The Last Rose of Summer... .Moore . Gather your Roses. vii PAGE 69 70 71 72 73 73 74 75 75 76 77 78 79 79 80 81 82 83 84 86 86 87 87 89 89 91 91 92 92 93 94 97 9C 99 100 100 102 103 104 CONTENTS, viii Ode from Anacreon. Moore . The Moss Rose.. The Rose. Camoens . The Legacy of the Roses. L. E. Lcmdon.. Gather ye Rosebuds. Herrick . The Sensitive Plant.. The Mimosa. Darwin . The Evening Primrose. The Evening Primrose. Langhorne . The Heliotrope. The Heliotrope. Anon . * Heliotrope. Anon . The Sweetbriar. To the Sweetbriar. Brainard . The Lady Fern. Lady Pern. Calder Campbell, The Myrtle.. A Myrtle. Keats . Their Groves of Sweet Myrtle .Burns . The Jasmine... . The Jasmine. Cowper . To a Jasmine Tree. Lord Morpeth. .. Jasmine. Moore . Night-Scenting Jasmine . Moore . Perfume of Jasmine. ........ Chnrchill . On the Indian-Jasmine Flower .Ryan ... The Jasmine. .. .Moore . To the Jasmine. Jane Taylor.... The Poppy. Through the Fields. Sawyer . The Orange-Blossoms. The Orange-Tree. Spenser .. To the Humming Bird. Charlotte Smith. The Orange-Bough. Hemans . The Anemone. To the Anemone. Pratt . The Red Anemone. . *. Tennyson . The Asphodel.. TAGB 104 105 106 106 107 108 109 110 110 113 113 114 114 115 116 116 118 118 119 119 120 120 121 121 122 122 123 123 124 125 126 , 126 127 . 128 129 129 . 130 , 131 CONTENTS. The Honeysuckle. ix PAGE 131 The Honeysuckle. . 132 Fragment. . 133 Woodbine. . 133 The Question. . 134 From the Rape of Proserpine. Barry Cornwall... . _ . 135 Wreaths . . 136 Honeysuckles. ... Keats ... . 137 The Celandine. . 138 To the Small Celandine... . .. Wordsworth .... . 138 The Weeping Willow. . 141 The Willow. . 141 Wearing the Willow. . 142 The Willow... . 143 To a Willow Tree..... 144 The Garland. , 144 Sonnet. 145 The Drooping Willow. .. .L. E. Landon . , 145 The Sunflower . 146 The Sunflower. .. Thomson . 147 To the Sunflower. 147 The Sunflower. 148 << U .. . Hood . 149 a a ... Shelley . 149 Constancy. .. .Moore . 150 The Laurel . 150 The Laurel. ... Tasso . 152 The Bay. . . .E. Cook . 153 The Laurel . . .. Wordsworth . 154 The Periwinkle . 155 Wild Flowers.. .. .Anon . 156 The Dahlia . 156 The Dahlia. .. .Martin . 157 The Marigold . 158 The Marigold.. ...G. Withers . 159 The Lily . 180 A Bouquet of Lilies. ... Wordsworth . 161 Water-Lilies. ..E.R.B . 161 The Closing Lily . .. Tennyson . 162 CONTEXTS. X TAOS A Dialogue from Soul Garden¬ ing.. Dora Greenwell . 1152 Une Pens4e. Hood . 168 The Water-Lily. Reynold* . 164 The Star and the Water-Lily 0. W. Holmes . 1(54 The Water-Lily. Reynolds . .... 1(5(5 The Sweet-William. Li? Sweet-William. Cowley . 167 The Gillyllovver. Drayton . 168 The Foxglove. — 168 Tho Foxglove... 169 The Fuchsia. 169 The Fuchsia. Anon . 170 The Heath . 171 Moorland Blossoms. E . Coolc . 171 Un a Sprig of lleath. Mrs. Grant . 173 Heath... ■> . 174 The Lilac. 174 The Lilac . Thomson .. 175 “ “ . Sigourney .176 “ “ . Burns .176 The Lotus . 476 The Lotus. Tennyson . 176 Sweet Peas. 478 Ivy 178 The Ivy Green . Dickens . 178 Ivy . Colder Campbell . 180 Ground Ivy . Thelvv . Barton . 180 The Amaranth . ' The Amaranth . Shelley . 182 Tiie Aspen . _ . 483 The Aspen Tree . Charles Swain . 184 The Cornflower . 486 Field Flowers . Campbell . 187 The Cypress . 488 The Cypress Wreath . Sir W Scott . 189 The Cypress Tree . Blackwood's May 190 THE Thistle..... CONTENTS. xl Clover, or Shamrock. In Clover. Thornbury,. Dead Leaves. Dead Leaves.. .Ella Ingram Withering—Withering. Iloffman.. . The Mistletoe. The Mistletoo . Under the Mistletoe The Passion-Flower. .. The Passion-Flower. To the Passion-Flower....... .Barton. The Passion-Flower. Anon... The Holly. The Holly-Tree. The Holly. E. Cook The Harebell. . The Harebell. Ileber . “ “ . Caroline Symonds “ “ . Sir IF. Scott .... The Broom. ... The Vervain. The Sweet Sedge.. The Sweet Sedge. C. Campbell . I'AdK 193 194 195 195 190 197 198 198 199 199 200 201 202 202 204 205 205 207 209 209 210 211 212 LANOUAOE AND VOCABULARY OF FLOWERS. Flower Dialogues. Bouquets.. Modifications of tiie Flower Language. Flower Game. The Vocabulary. 212 217 221 TIIE POETRY OF FLOWERS. TnE Poetry of Flowers. 205 Fancy. Keats . 207 November. Bryant . 270 The Death of the Flowers. G. Bowles . 271 CONTENTS. Farewell to the Flowers. . Sigourney . TAGE .. 272 To the Fringed Gentian. ... 274 Fading Autumn.. Kinney . ... 275 The Night-flowering Cereus... Anon . ... 276 The Indian Summer. Dixon . ... 277 Sonnet. Keats . ... 270 The Human Seasons. 66 ... 280 A Dead Rose. . E. B. Browning . ... 281 The Last Autumnal Walk.... W. P. Palmer . ... 283 Winter. . Southey .. ... 286 Lines to a Friend. . 17. P. Palmer . ... 287 Lines to an Orange-Tree. 6 6 6 6 ... 288 Winter Piece. J. R. Loicell . ... 291 The Snow-Storm... R. W. Emerson .. .. 293 The First of December. . Southey . .. 294 On a Forget-me-not. .Kemble . ... 297 The Laurustinus. . Montgomery . ... 298 The South. ... 299 A Grave at Greenwood. I.A . ... 302 Christmas Day . . C. Harvey ... . The Green-Iloflse Rose. .C. Smith . .... 305 The Christmas-Tree. . Rev. C. T. Brooks ... ... 307 The Sweet-scented Cyclamen. .Mi-s. Southey . . 311 Rose Standish.. .F. 31. Caulkins . .... 313 The Opening Year. .Shelley .. .... 316 The Thrush. Burns .— .... 317 The First of January. . Southey ... .... 318 Transmigration.. Anon .... .... 321 The Friendship Flower. . 31ilnes . .... 323 To a Rose on New-Year’s Day . Anon . .... 325 Evergreens. . Pinckney .. .... 326 My Heart’s my Greenhouse.. .17. L . .... 327 To a Withered Rose. . T7m. Whitman . .... 329 To a Flower. . H. W. Parker . .... 330 The New Year. . Tennyson . .... 332 Childhood. . Anon . .... 333 A Day in June. .J. R. Lowell . .... 334 There is a Tongue in Every Leaf. Anon . .... 337 CONTENTS. xl ll PAGB The Town and C( untry Child A. Cunningham . 339 A House and Grounds . Leigh Bunt .. 343 To the Butterfly. . . .Rogers .. 344 Jeune Fille et Jeune Fleur ...Chateaubriand . 345 The Rosebud. Keble . 346 The Little Red Rose. .. Goethe .. 349 The Drop of Dew. Anon .350 Cupid and the Dial. *• 352 Go, Lovely Rose. Waller . 353 Sur la Mort d’une Jeune Fille. Malesherhes . 354 A Midsummer Legend. Mary Howitt . 355 The Morning-Glory.--. .Maria Lowell . 359 Myself. Arey . 361 The Fountain... Anon . 366 Song of the Flower Angels.... Mrs. Hale . 368 Morning.. Caroline A. Briggs . 370 Ode to Evening. Collins . 372 To the Grasshopper and the Cricket. Anon . 375 The Nightshade. “ 376 The Star and the Water-Lily. .0. W. Holmes . 377 To a Butterfly seen in a Crowd¬ ed Street. W. P. Palmer .379 Gold Fishes. H. Coleridge. . 382 Sonnet. Shakspeare . 384 Sabbath Evening. G. D. Prentice . 385 White Roses. S. L. P. Smith .387 The Lily. J. G. Percival . 388 Petition for an Absolute Re¬ treat. Countess of Winchelsea . 390 Not to Myself Alone. Anon . 394 Spring in the Lap of Winter.. “ 397 Arcadian Hymn to Flora ... R. U. Stoddard . 398 Flowers. II. W. Longfellow .404 Early Morning. A. E. Starr . 407 Song in Praise of Spring. Barry Cornwall .408 Come! Let us go to the Land. “ “ . 409 March. W. C Bryant . 410 A Spring Song. E. Youl . 412 XIV CONTENTS. Y PAQB The Voice of the Grass. .Anon . ... 415 Flowers . U ... 417 Blue Flowers. . C. Eustis . .. 420 The Garden. Andrew Marvell . ... 422 Flowers. .Barry Cornwall . ... 425 The Vernal Shower. .Mrs. Ilemans . ... 42G The Sun. . Southey . ...427 The Daisy. . Wordsworth . ...428 Mossgiel. U ... 482 The May Morning. . Grace Greenwood . ... 433 Evening Rainbow. .Southey . ... 435 Night. . William Habington... ... 436 May.. . Percival . ... 438 Hymn to the Flowers. .Horace Smith . ... 439 Hector in the Garden. E. B. Browning . ... 442 Hymn. . Anon . ... 447 Late Spring . .Southey . .. 449 Fine Weather in May. .Leigh Hunt . .. . 450 To a Flower. . Anon . ... 452 The Origin of Dimples. a .. . 453 To Corinna, to go a Maying.. . Herrick . ... 455 The Close of Spring. . C. Smith . ... 457 Summer ... .R. II. Stoddard . . . 458 June. . Mary N. Meigs . .. 459 The Tulip and Eglantine..... . Anon . .. . 432 On Observing a Blossom on L February 1st. . S. T. Coleridge . ... 463 Valentine. Southey . ... 464 The Birdie’s Song. Anon . ... 465 A City Lvric.. . T. Westwood . ... 466 The Teachings of Eva. . E. Oakes Smith . .. 468 Life.. .Charles Mackay . ... 469 Song. Tennyson .. ... 471 Song for August. . Harriet Martineau ... ... 472 The Fire-Fly. Barry Cornwall . ... 473 Autumn Flowers. . Caroline Southey . ... 474 Songs and Chorus of the Flow- ers . Leigh Hunt . ... 475 A Still Day in Autumn. Mrs. Whitman . ,.. 479 CONTENTS. XV PAGK The Moon. . Hood . 480 The Evening Gillyflower. .Anon . . 482 The Reaper and the Flowers. . Longfellow ... . . 484 The Falls of the Passaic. .. . . W. Irving . . 486 The Wasted Flowers. . W. Bowen . , 488 The Chosen Tree.. .‘•'■Estelle ”. . 491 A Nocturnal Reverie. .Countess of Winchelsea.. 493 The Use of Flowers. .Mary Howitt . 494 The Setting Sun. .Sir W. Scott . , 497 The Elm Sylph. . H. W. Parker . 498 The Anemone. .Hartley Coleridge . 499 October. . W. C. Bryant . 501 Grief’s Neglect. . Tennyson . 502 The Sensitive Plant. .P. B. Shelley . 503 Ode on Melancholy. . Keats . 505 The Child and the Autumn Leaf. . Sami. Lover . 507 Birth-Day Flowers. . Anon . 508 Song for the Season. .E. Cook . 509 Lessons from the Gorse. .E. B. Browning . 512 Work without Hope. . Coleridge . 514 Emblems of Flowers. . Burns. .. 515 The Rose. . . Beaumont & Fletcher.... 516 The Captive and the Flowers. . Goethe ... 516 Fragment. . Sir W. Scott . 520 Sonnet. . Spenser . 520 Children of the Sun’s First Glancing. . Schiller . 521 Flowers for the Heart. . Elliott . 522 Flowers sent me during Ill- ness. R. II. Dana . 523 The Dandelion.. .J.R. Lowell . 525 To the Snowdrop. .Barry Cornwall . 527 Field Flowers. . Campbell . 529 The Rhodora. . R. W. Emerson . 530 The Flower. . George Herbert . 531 April. II. W. Longfellow . 533 Buttercups and Daisies. , Mary Howitt . 535 May. Willis . 537 Providence.... . George Herbert . 539 INTRODUCTION BY AMERICAN EDITOR. w "0 apology is needed for having brought together, in a presentable form, a few of the many beauti¬ ful things that the poets have written on flowers. The impulse was a natural one, originating in love of the 3ubject, and a desire that others should feel and enjoy the pleasure of familiarity with the best and highest thoughts upon them. The idea of such a collection once entertained, the only difficulty was what to omit. No one who has not examined English poetry with an especial view to the poetry of flowers, could imagine the extent to which that rich theme has inspired the sons of song. Only Love has prompted more verses; and even that universal topic is so indebted to the 2 INTRODUCTION BY AMERICAN EDITOR. illustration of flowers, that we cannot but perceive their claim to be almost equal in extent. Whatever may seem capricious in this selection, is to he ascribed to redundance and excellence of material. The plan required that variety of topics and treatment should be a leading object, and this excluded some of the most charming flower-poetry. Then, again, some pieces of that kind had, from their very excellence, already found their way into every school reading- book, and it seemed superfluous to reprint them here. And more than all, the quantity of verses which the editor had supposed could be contained in a good-sized volume, proved so much beyond the capacity of any volume of tolerable proportions, that a great mass of dearly beloved poems were absolutely crowded out. There will, however, be found in this little volume something for all tastes, as well as for all seasons. It contains a brief sketch of the mythology and symbol¬ ism of flowers ; some hints with regard to their prac¬ tical utility ; selections from the poetry inspired by them ; and a full explanation of their language, in the shape of a Vocabulary and Flower Dialogues. A INTRODUCTION BY AMERICAN EDITOR. 3 game for home is also suggested, to he played with these lovely gifts of nature. Thus, it is hoped, that alike in sunshine and shade—when June’s red roses delight us, or ‘-'rain and wind beat dark December”— our readers may enjoy a perennial Bouquet. - \ FLORAL POESY. INTRODUCTION. HE most charming of all gifts is one of flowers. A. queen may give them to her subjects ; and the poorest subject may offer them to a monarch. They are the representatives of all times and of all nations ; the pledges of all feelings. The infant plays with them, and gains his first idea of beauty from their blossoms ; the lover gives them to his beloved; the bride wears them. We offer them to our beloved dead ; dynasties are represented by a flower; nations adopt them as their emblems. Universal is their hold on human sympathies ; universal their language. Floral Poesy is, therefore, the most appropriate of all presents ; and, in giving this title to a language of flowers, and a collection of charming poems on them, we believe we have not been guilty of a misnomer. Hood, in the following pretty lines, has afforded us an admirable introduction to our poetical Posie :— “ Welcome, dear Heart, and a most kind good-morrow ; The day is gloomy, but our looks shall shine :— Flowers I have none to give thee, but I borrow Their sweetness in a verse to speak for thine. 8 FLORAL POESY. “ Here are red Hoses, gathered at thy cheeks,— The white were all too happy to look white : For love the Hose, for faith the Lily speaks ; It withers in false hands, but here ’tis bright ! u Dost love sweet Hyacinth ? Its scented leaf Curls manifold,—all love’s delights blow double : ’Tis said this floweret is inscribed with grief,— But let that hint of a forgotten trouble. “ I plucked the Primrose at night’s dewy noon; Like Hope, it showed its blossoms in the night;— ’Twas, like Endymion, watching for the Moon! And here are Sunflowers, amorous of light! “ These golden Buttercups are April’s seal,— The Daisy stars her constellations be : These grew so lowly, I was forced to kneel, Therefore I pluck no Daisies but for thee ! “ Here’s Daisies for the morn, Primrose for gloom, Pansies and Roses for the noontide hours :— A wight once made a dial of their bloom,— So may thy life be measured out by flowers! ” Our readers will perceive that the symbolism and language of flowers were not unknown to the poet. Mrs. Browning says truly and charmingly “ Love’s language may be talked with these ; To work out choicest sentences, No blossoms can be meeter ; And, such being used in Eastern bowers, Young maids may wonder if the flowers Or meanings be the sweeter. “ And such being strewn before a bride, Her little foot may turn aside, Their longer bloom decreeing, Unless some voice’s whispered sound Should make her gaze upon the ground Too earnestly for seeing. INTRODUCTION". 9 “ And such being scattered on a grave, Whoever mourneth there, may have A type which seemeth worthy Of that fair body hid below, Which bloomed on earth a time ago, Then perished as the earthy. “ And such being wreathed for worldly feast, Across the brimming cup some guest Their rainbow colors viewing, May feel them, with a silent start, The covenant his childish heart With Nature made,—renewing.” Ancl Leigh Hunt playfully declares :— s ‘ An exquisite invention this, Worthy of love’s most honeyed kiss, This art of writing billet doux In buds and odors, and bright hues ; In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks, Uttering (as well as silence may) The sweetest words the sweetest way : How fit, too, for the lady’s bosom, The place where billet doux repose ’em. “ How charming in some rural spot, Combining love with garden plot, At once to cultivate one’s flowers, And one’s epistolary powers, Growing one’s own choice words and fancies In orange-tubs and beds of pansies ; One’s sighs and passionate declarations In odorous rhet’ric of carnations ; Seeing how far one’s stocks will reach ; Taking due care one’s flowers of speech To guard from blight as well as bathos, And watering every day one’s pathos. J* 10 FLORAL POESY. “ A letter comes just gathered - we Dote on its tender brilliancy ; Inhale its delicate expression Of balm and pea ; and its confession Made with as sweet a maiden blush As ever morn bedewed in bush ; And then, when we have kissed its wit, And heart, in water putting it, To keep its remarks fresh, go round Our little eloquent plot of ground, And with delighted hands compose Our answer, all of lily and rose, Of tuberose and of violet, And little darling {mignonette), And gratitude and polyanthus, And flowers that say, “ Felt never man thus ! ” IIow the flowers may be made to hold a conversation, Christine Pire tells us in the following dialogue :— THE LOVER. “ I give to thee the Autumn rose, Let it say how dear thou art ; All my lips dare not disclose. Let it whisper to thy heart ; How love draws my soul to thee, Without language thou may’s! see. THE LADY. “ I give to thee the aspen-leaf— ’Tis to show I tremble still When I muse on all the grief Love can cause, if false or ill ; How, too, many have believed, Trusted long, and bee>n deceived. INTRODUCTION - . 11 LOVER. “ I give to thee a faded wreath, Teaching thee, alas ! too well, How 1 spent my latest breath, Seeking all my truth to tell; But thy coldness made me die Victim of thy cruelty. LADY. “ I give to thee the honey-flower, Courteous, best, and bravest knight: Fragrant in the summer shower, Shrinking from the sunny light : May it not an emblem prove Of untold, but tender love ? ” Flowers also are used for divination. All readers of Goethe will remember Marguerite’s flower. Our own poet Lowell sends the following pretty lines on the subject, with a pressed flower :— “ This little flower from afar, Hath come from other lands to thine ; For once its white and drooping star Could see its shadow in the Rhine. “ Perchance some fair-haired German maid Hath plucked one from the self-same stalk, And numbered over, half afraid, Its petals in her evening walk. “ ‘ He loves me* loves me not! ’ she cries ; ‘ He loves me more than earth or heaven 1 * And then glad, tears have filled her eyes To find the number was uneven. “ And thou must count its petals weli, Because it is a gift from me : And the last one of all shall tell f Something I’ve often told to thee« FLORAL POESY. “ But here at home, where we were born Thou wilt find flowers just as true, Down-bending every Summer morn With freshness of New England dew. “ For Nature, ever kind to love, Hath granted them the same sweet tongue, Whether with German skies above, Or here our granite rocks among.” There is another mode, resembling the Scottish and English superstitions on Hallowe’en and St. Agnes’ Eve, by which maidens in Germany seek to dive into futurity. It is by the St. John’s Wort. The story is prettily told in these lines, which we transcribe from the “ Flora Symbolica : ”— “ The young maid stole through the cottage door, And blushed as she sought the plant of power ; * Thou silver glowworm, 0 lend me thy light, I must gather the mystic St. John’s-wort to-night; The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide If the coming year shall make me a bride ! ’ And the glowworm came With its silvery flame, And sparkled and shone Thro’ the night of St. John ; And soon as the young maid her love-knot tied, “ With noiseless tread To her chamber she sped, Where the spectral moon her white beams shed. ‘ Bloom here, bloom here, thou plant of power, To deck the young bride in her bridal hour ? ’ But it drooped its head, that plant of power, And died the mute death of the voiceless flower , And a withered wreath on the ground it lay, More meet for a burial than bridal day. INTRODUCTION. 13 And when a year was past away, All pale on her bier the young inaid lay ! And the glowworm came With its silvery flame, And sparkled and shone Thro’ the night of St. John ; And they closed the cold grave o’er the maid’s cold clay.” Games also are made of flowers. In fact, time would fail to tell of all the joy and beauty which .these sweet creations bestow upon humanity. Through life to death they cheer us ; and it is not one of the least of our anticipated joys hereafter that we shall dwell amid those flowers of Paradise, of which these earthly blos¬ soms are but faint shadows. And in these days of utility, when a thing is nothing if not useful, we must remind our readers that the veg¬ etable and floral world holds in it the secret of health to a greater degree, we believe, than is yet dreamt of in our philosophy. They make the air we breathe pure and life-giving. It is a known fact that Lavender and many other flowers supply ozone to the atmosphere ; the humble Lichen was one of the ingredients in the dye of imperial purple, for which Tyre and Sidon were famous ; and the search for it brought Phoenician com¬ merce to the Irish shores in the days of Ptolemy. Another Lichen, the Rocella tinctoria, afforded the first dye for British broad cloths. The Mosses shared in this utility. The Dandelion affords the Taraxacum, a valuable medicine. The tubers called “ Lords and ladies,” dear to babyhood, furnish a species of Arrowroot. The tubers of the Orchis afford a similar preparation called salep, a favorite posset with our great-grandmothers. The Rock Samphire bestows a pickle on our tables. 14 FLORAL POESY. The Red rose leaf is an admirable tonic ; the Lily leaf heals a cut. Chamomile is a tome. Cowslip affords a wme and a pudding, besides an infant’s ball; the Lesser Celandine is still used m medicine for the relief of a painful disease ; and who is ignorant of the blessed soothing powers of the Poppy and Henbane ? Greek mythology has left a floral record ; the Mistletoe, Ver¬ vain, and St. John's Wort recall Druidic rites of ancient Britain. Thus we may give with a bouquet memories of mytho¬ logy, history, usefulness, beauty, and fragrance ; and in modern times we have added to the ancient claims of flowers that of language—a gift bestowed on them by the East, and transplanted thence by one of the most gifted of Englishwomen, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. In our Floral Gift we have endeavored to unite all this goodly heritage of flower-land. And Avith these few lines of introduction, we leave them to their worthy chroniclers—the Poets. DAISY. , {Innocence.) “Whose white investments figure innocence.”—S hakspeare. T he flower which, next to the rose, appears to have received the most attention from the poets is the Daisy. Formerly it was termed the “Ye of daie, and under that name Chaucer speaks of it. According to the classic account, this little flower owed its origin to Belidcs, one of the dryads, the nymphs who presided over woodlands. It is fabled that whilst this damsel was dancing with her favored suitor, Ephigeus, she attracted the attention of Vertumnus, the guardian deity of orchards : and it was in order to shelter her from his pursuit that she was transfoimed into Bcellis, or the daisy—the “ day’s eye,” as our old poets call it—the flower of faithful love, which opens and closes with the sun. It is called in French la Marguerite, or pearl. The unhappy Margaret of Anjou chose it as her de¬ vice ; and when she reigned a beauty and crowned queen, the nobles of England wore wreaths of it, or had it embroidered on their robes. Marguerite de Valois, the friend of Erasmus and Calvin—the Marguerite of Marguerites—also adopted this flower as her device ; and it was more appiopiiate certainly to the princess who withdrew from the glitter of courts to study her Bible than to the ambitious Lan¬ castrian queen of Englandc 1 6 16 FLORAL POESY. THE DAISIE. CHAUCER. Baisie of light! very ground of comfort l The sunnis doughtir ye hight, as I rede. For when he westrith, farwell your disport; By your nature anoue, right for pure drede’ Of the rude Night, that with his boistous wede Of deikenesse shadowith our hemisphere. Then closin ye, my liv’is ladie dere. Daunying the daie unto his kind resort. And Phoebus your fethir with his stremes rede Adorneth the morrowe, consuming the sort Of mistie cloudes, that wouldin ovdrlede True humble hertis with ther mistie hede, Nere cormort adaies, when your eyin clere Disclose and sprede, my liv’is ladie dere. Je vouldray ; but the grete God disposeth And makitli casuell by His providence Soche thing as mannis frele wit purposeth. All for the best, if that your conscience Not giutche it, but in humble pacience It receve ; for God saith with on tin fable, A faithfull herte evir is acceptable. From “A Godely Balade TO THE DAISY. WORDSWORTH. Bright flower ! whose home is everywhere. Bold in maternal Nature’s care, And all the long year through the heir Of joy or sorrow ; DAISY. Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest thorough ! Is it that man is soon deprest ? A thoughtless thing ? who, once unblest, Does little on his memory rest, Or on his reason. And thou wouldst teach him how to find A shelter under every wind, A hope for times that are unkind, And every season ? Thou wander’st the wide world about. Uncheck’d by pride or scrupulous doubt, With friends to greet thee, or without, Yet pleased and willing ; Meek, yielding to the occasion’s call. And all things suffering from all. Thy function apostolical In peace fulfilling. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY. ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH A PLOW. BURNS. Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, Thou’s met me in an evil hour, For I maun crush amang the stoure * Thy slender stem ; To spare thee now is past my power. Thou bounie gem. * Stou?-e, dust. 18 % FLOEAL POESY. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet. The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee ’mang the dewy weet,* Wi’ speckled breast. When upward springing, blithe to greet The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter, biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glintedf forth Amid the storm, Scarce reared above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High sheltering woods and wa’sj maun shield, But thou, beneath the random bield § O’ clod or stane Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies ! Such fate to suffering worth is given, Who lang with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven To misery’s brink, Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, He ruined, sink ! * Weet, rain, wetness. \Wa’s, walls. \ Glinted, peeped. § Random bield, casual shelter. SNOWDROP. 19 Even thou, who mourn’st the daisy’s fate That fate is thine—no distant date ; Stern Ruin’s plowshare drives elate Full on thy bloom, Till, crushed beneath the furrow’s weight, Shall be thy doom ! SNOWDROP: . OR, FAIR MAID OF FEBRUARY. (.Friend in Need — Hope.) T HE snowdrop is dedicated to the Virgin Mary: and tradition asserts that it blooms on the second of February, or Candlemas Day—the day kept in cele¬ bration of the Holy Virgin taking the Child Jesus to the Jewish Temple, and there presenting the appointed offering of two turtle doves. THE SNOWDROP. WESTWOOD. The snowdrop is the herald of the flowers, Sent with its small white flag of truce to plead For its beleaguered brethren : suppliantly, It prays stern winter to withdraw his troop Of winds and blustering storm ; and having won A smile of promise from his pitying face, Returns to tell the issue of its errand. To the expectant host. 20 FLORAL POESY. THE SNOWDROP. WORDSWOUTII. Lome flower, hemmed in with snows, and white as they, But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day Storms, sallying from the mountain tops, waylay The rising sun, and on the plains descend, Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise ! Blue-eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odors lavishing On the soft west wind and his frolic peers ; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years ! THE SNOWDROP. MRS. HOWITT. The snowdrop ! ’Tis an English flower, And grows beneath our garden trees ; For every heart it has a dower, And old and dear remembrances ! All look upon it, and straightway Recall their youth like yesterday, Their sunny years when forth they went, Wandering in measureless content ; Their little plot of garden ground, The mossy orchard’s quiet bound ; SNOWDROP. 21 Their father’s house so free from care. And the familiar faces there ; The household voices kind and sweet, That knew no feigning—hushed and gone ! The mother that was sure to greet Their coming with a welcome tone ; The brothers that were children then, Now anxious, toiling, thoughtful men ; And the kind sister whose glad mirth Was like a sunshine on the earth— These come back to the soul supine, Flower of the spring, at look of thine : And thou, among the dimmed and gone. Art an unaltered thing alone ! Unchanged—unchanged—the very flower That grew in Eden droopingly— And now beside the peasant’s door Awakes his little children’s glee. Even as it filled his heart with joy Beside his mother’s door, a boy !— The same—and to his heart it brings The freshness of those vanished springs ! Bloom then, fair flower, in sun and shade. For deep thought in thy cup is laid ; And careless children, in their glee, A sacred memory make of thee ! TO THE SNOWDROP. KEBLE. Thou first-born of the year’s delight, Pride of the dewy glade, 22 FLORAL POESY. In vernal green and virgin white. Thy vestal robes arrayed : ’Tis not because thy drooping form Sinks grateful on its nest. When chilly shades from gathering storm Affright thy tender breast; Nor from yon river islet wild, Beneath the willow spray. Where like the ringlets of a child, Thou wearest thy circle gay ; ’Tis not for these I love thee dear,— Thy shy averted smiles To fancy bode a joyous year. One of life’s fairy isles. They twinkle to the wintry moon, And cheer the ungenial day, And tell us all will glisten soon. As green and bright as they. Is there a heart that loves the spring. Their witness can refuse ? Yet mortals doubt when angels bring From Heaven their Easter news : When holy maids and matrons speak Of Christ’s forsaken bed, And voices, that forbid to seek The living ’mid the dead ; SNOWDROP. 23 And when they say, “Turn, wandering heart. Thy Lord is risen indeed, Let pleasure go, put care apart, And to His presence speed ; ” We smile in scorn ; and yet we know They early sought the tomb, Their hearts that now so freshly glow, Lost in desponding gloom. They who have sought, nor hope to find. Wear not so bright a glance : They who have won their earthly mind, Less reverently advance. But where, in gentle spirits, fear And joy so duly meet, These sure have seen the angels near. And kissed the Saviour’s feet. Nor let the pastor’s thankful eye Their faltering tale disdain, As on their lowly couch they lie. Prisoners of want and pain. 0 guide us, when our faithless hearts From thee would start aloof, Where patience her sweet skill imparts Beneath some cottage roof : Revive our drooping fires, to burn High as her anthems soar. And of our scholars let us learn Our own forgotten lore. 24 FLORAL POESY. THE SNOWDROP. MRS. ROBINSON. The Snowdrop, Winter’s timid child. Awakes to life, bedewed with tears, And flings around its fragrance mild ; And, where no rival flowerets bloom Amidst the bare and chilling gloom, A beauteous gem appears. * * * * Where’er I find thee, gentle flower, Thou still art sweet and dear to me ! For I have known the cheerless hour, Have seen the sunbeams cold and pale. Have felt the chilling wintry gale, And wept and shrunk like thee. THE SNOWDROP. As Hope, with bowed head, silent stood, And on her golden anchor leant, Watching below the angry flood, While Winter, ’mid the dreariment Half-buried in the drifted snow, Lay sleeping on the frozen ground, Not heeding how the wind did blow. Bitter and bleak on all around : She gazed on Spring, who at her feet Was looking at the snow and sleet. SNOWDROP. 25 Spring sighed, and through the driving gale Her warm breath caught the falling snow. And from the flakes a flower as pale Did into spotless whiteness blow ; Hope, smiling, saw the blossom fall, And watched its root strike in the earth,— “I will that flower the Snowdrop cal],” Said Hope, “ in memory of its birth ; And through all ages it shall be In reverence held, for love of me.” “ And ever from my hidden bowers,” Said Spring, “ it first of all shall go. And be the herald of the flowers, To warn away the sheeted snow : Its mission done, then by thy side All summer long it shall remain. While other flowers I scatter wide O’er every hill, and wood, and plain. This shall return, and ever be A sweet companion, Hope, for thee.” Hope stooped and kissed her sister Spring, And said, “ For hours when thou art gone, I’m left alone without a thing That I can fix my heart upon , ’Twill cheer me many a lonely hour, And in the future I shall see Those who would sink, raised by that flower, They’ll look on it, then think of thee ; And many a weary heart shall sing, The Snowdrop bringeth Hope and Spring. Z 26 FLORAL POESY. THE COWSLIP. {Pensiveness—Winning Youthful Grace.) T HE “pretty Mullein,” as it is called, is one of the sweetest of our meadow flowers. The yellow oxlip is larger, and not quite so common. Cowslip wine is pleasant, and said to be slightly narcotic. Shakspeare, speaking of the Fairy Queen, says : “ The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; In their gold coats spots we see ; Those be rubies, fairy favors,— In those freckles live their savors ; I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.” Milton, in his masque of “ Comus,” has given an exquisite song to Sabrina, in which the airy tread of that goddess “o’er the cowslip’s velvet head” is most delicately expressed : “ By the rushy, fringed bank, Where grow the willow and the osier dank, My sliding chariot stays ; Thick set with agate and the azure sheen Of turkis blue and emerald green, That in the channel strays ; Whilst from off the waters fleet, Thus I set my printless feet, O’er the cowslip’s velvet head, That bends not as I tread. Gentle swain, at thy request I am here,” COWSLIP. 27 These flowers furnish an abundant supply of honey to the bee ; for “ Rich in vegetable gold, From calyx pale the freckled cowslip born, Receives in amber cups the fragrant dews of morn. ’ THE COWSLIP. MBS. SIGOURNEY. Good neighbor cowslip, I have seen the bee Whispering to you, and have been told he stays Quite long and late amid your golden cells. Is it not business that he comes upon— Matter of fact ? He never waits an hour. Know you that he’s a subtle financier, And shows some gain for every day he spends ? Oh ! learn from him the priceless worth of time, Thou fair and frail ! So shalt thou prove the truth. That he who makes companion of the wise Shall in their wisdom share. COWSLIPS. MARY HOWITT. Oh ! fragrant dwellers of the lea. When first the wildwood rings With each sound of vernal minstrelsy, When fresh the green grass springs ! FLORAL POESY, What can the blessed spring restore More gladdening than your charms. Bringing the memory once more Of lovely fields and farms ! Of thickets, breezes, birds, and flowers ; Of life’s unfolding prime ; Of thoughts as cloudless as the hours ; Of souls without a crime. Oh! blessed, blessed do ye seem. For, even now, I turned With soul athirst for wood and stream, From streets that glared and burned. From the hot town, where mortal care His crowded fold doth pen ; Where stagnates the polluted air In many a sultry den. And are ye here ? and are ye here ? Drinking the dew like wine, ’Midst living gales and waters clear, And heaven’s unstinted shine. I care not that your little life Will quickly have run through, And the sward with summer children rife Keep not a trace of you. For again, again, on dewy plain, I trust to see you rise, When spring renews the wildwood strain, And bluer gleam the skies. CROCUS. 29 Again, again, when many springs Upon my grave shall shine, Here shall you speak of vanished things To living hearts of mine. THE COWSLIP. MISS LANDON. The cowslip, that bending With its golden bells. Of each glad hour’s ending With a sweet chime tells. CROCUS. ( Cheerfulness — Hopei) A CCORDING to some authors, these bright little flowers, which “Come before the swallow dares, And take the winds of March with beauty,” derive their name from a Greek word signifying thread, from the fact of their thread or filament being in such request for saffron dye. The Greeks fabled that Crocu, a beautiful youth, was transformed into this flower; as his lady-love, Smilax, was at the same time into a yew-tree. It is in England consecrated to St. Valentine. 30 FLORAL POESY. Bees are excessively fond of the crocus; and Moore thus alludes to this fact in “ Lalla Rookh ” : “The busiest hive On Bela’s hills is less alive, When saffron-beds are full in flower, Than looked the valley in that hour.” Mrs. Howitt says of the purple crocus : “ Like lilac flame its color glows, Tender and yet so clearly bright, That all for miles and mdcs about The splendid meadow shineth out, And far-off village children shout To see the welcome sight.” TO A CROCUS. BLOOMING BENEATH A WALLFLOWER. BARTON. Welcome, wild harbinger of spring ! To this small nook of earth ; Feeling and fancy fondly cling Round thoughts which owe their birth To thee, and to the humble spot Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot. To thee,—for thy rich golden bloom. Like heaven’s fair bow on high, Portends, amid surrounding gloom. That brighter hours draw nigh. When blossoms of more varied dyes Shall ope their tints to warmer skies, CROCUS. 31 Yet not the lily, nor the rose. Though fairer far they be, Can more delightful thoughts disclose Than I derive from thee : The eye their beauty may prefer; The heart is thy interpreter ! Methinks in thy fair flower is seen, By those whose fancies roam. An emblem of that leaf of green The faithful dove brought home. When o’er the world of waters dark Were driven the inmates of the ark. That leaf betokened freedom nigh To mournful captives there ; Thy flower foretells a sunnier sky. And chides the dark despair, By winter’s chilling influence flung O'er spirits sunk, and nerves unstrung. And sweetly has kind Nature’s hand Assigned thy dwelling-place Beneath a flower whose blooms expand W'th fond congenial grace, On many a desolated pile, Brightening decay with beauty’s smile. Thine is the flower of Hope, whose hue Is bright with coming joy ; The wallflower’s that of Faith, too true For ruin to destroy ;— And where, 0 ! where should Hope up-spring But under Faith’s protecting wing. 32 FLORAL POESY. TO THE CROCUS. PATTERSON. Lowly, sprightly little flower ! Herald of a brighter bloom, Bursting in a sunny hour From thy winter tomb. Hues you bring, bright, gay, and tender, As if never to decay ; Fleeting in their varied splendor— Soon, alas ! it fades away. Thus the hopes I long had cherished Thus the friends I long had known, One by one, like you, have perished. Blighted—I must fade alone. APPLE-BLOSSOM. ( Preference .) XN the Scandinavian mythology the apple-tree played -L an important part. In the “ Edda,” the goddess Iduna is related to have had charge of the apples which had the power of conferring immortality, and which, in consequence of their miraculous property, were especially retained for the gods to eat when they felt themselves growing old. The evil spirit, Loki, carried off Iduna and the wonderful apple-tree, and hid APPLE-BLOSSOM. 33 them away in a forest where the deities were unable to find them. The results of this spiteful theft were that everything went wrong, both in the realms mundane and divine. The gods grew old and infirm, and, be¬ coming enfeebled in mind and body, were no longer able to regulate the affairs of the earth ; and mortals, no longer having any one to look after them, fell into evil ways, and became a prey to the evil spirit. Affairs grew worse daily, until the gods, combining the re¬ mains of their strength, overcame Loki, and compelled him to restore the stolen apple-tree. APPLE-BLOSSOMS. L. E. L. Of all the months that fill the year Give April’s month to me. For earth and sky are then so filled With sweet variety ! The apple-blossoms’ shower of pearl. Though blent with rosier hue— As beautiful as woman’s blush. As evanescent too. On every bough there is a bud. In every bud a flower ; ^ But scarcely bud or flower will last Beyond the present hour. Kow comes a shower cloud o’er the sky, Then all again sunshine ; 2 * FLORAL POESY. Then clouds again, but brightened with The rainbow’s colored line. Ay, this, this is the month for me ! I could not love a scene Where the blue sky was always blue, The green earth always green. TO BLOSSOMS. HERRICK. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree. Why do you fall so fast ? Your date is not so past; But you may stay here yet awhile. To blush and gently smile. And go at last. What, were ye born to be An hour or half’s delight. And so to bid good night ? ’Twas pity Nature brought ye forth, Merely to show your worth. And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne’er so brave : And after they have shown their pride Like you awhile, they glide Into the grave. DAFFODIL. 35 DAFFODIL. (Unrequited Love.) ''HE name of this flower is only a corruption of -L Dis’s lily, as it is supposed to be the flower that dropped from Pluto’s chariot when he was carrying off Proserpine to the infernal regions. Jean Ingelow, in the beautiful poem of “ Persephone,” thus introduces this flower into a resuscitation of the antique fable : “ She stepped upon Sicilian grass, Demeter’s daughter fresh and fair, A child of light, a radiant lass, And gamesome as the morning air. The daffodils were fair to see, They nodded lightly on the lea. “ Do ! one she marked of rarer growth Than orchis or anemone ; For it the maiden left them both, And parted from her company. Drawn nigh, she deemed it fairer still, And stooped to gather by the rill The daffodil, the daffodil. “ What ailed the meadow that it shook ? What ailed the air of Sicily ? She wondered by the brattling brook, And trembled with the trembling lea. ‘The coal-black horses rise—they rise! 0 mother, mother ! ” low she cries. “ ‘ 0 light, 0 light ! ’ she cries, ‘ farewell ; The coal-black horses wait for me. 0 shade of shades, where I must dwell, Demeter, mother, far from thee ! 36 FLORAL POESY. Oh, fated doom that T fulfill ! Oh, fateful flower beside the rill ! The daffodil, the daffodil ! ’ ” Chaucer alludes to this story, and Shakspeare intro¬ duces it into his “ Winter's Tale : ” “ 0 Proserpina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou lett’st fall From Dis’s wagon: daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.” DAFFODILS. HERRICK. Fair daffodils, we weep to see Ye haste away so soon ; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon : Stay, stay. Until the hastening day Has run But to the even-song, And, having prayed together, we Will go with ye along. We have short time to stay as ye, We have as fleet a Spring, As quick a growth to meet decay As you or anything : We die As your hours do and dry Away DAFFODIL. 37 Like to the summer’s rain, Or as the pearls of morning’s dew, Ne’er to be found again. DAFFODILS. WORDSWORTH. I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills. When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees. Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle in the milky-way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay. Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced ; but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company ; I gazed and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft when on my couch I lie, In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude ; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. 38 FLORAL POESt. VIOLET. (Modesty.) “The violet is for modesty.” —Burns. Y IOLETS, considered by some as typical of modesty, by others are deemed emblematic of faithfulness ; and the latter have the support of one of Shakspeare's contemporary poets : “Violet is for faithfulness, Which in me shall abide ; Hoping likewise that from your heart You will not let it slide.” “ The violet was as proud a device of the Ionic Athenians,’'' says a well-known author, “as the rose of England and the lily of France. In all seasons it was to be seen exposed for sale in the market-place at Athens, the citizens being successful in rearing it in their gar¬ dens even when the ground was covered with snow.” The Greeks called this flower “ Ion,” and it was said that Jupiter caused the first violet to spring up in the grass, when the unhappy Io, metamorphosed into a heifer, bent her lips to eat. Perdita, when wishing for flowers to give her guests, in the “ Winter’s Tale,” thus speaks of the beauty and perfume of violets : “Violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes, Or Cytherea’s breath.” The frequent allusions made to “ the nodding violet ” by our great dramatist cause it to be regarded as his VIOLET. 39 favorite flower ; and in the eyes of many, the fact will not be one of its slightest charms. There is not a more exquisite passage in the whole range of English poetry than that in “ Twelfth Night,” where the Duke, list¬ ening to plaintive music, desires “ That strain again ; it had a dying fall : Oh, it came o’er my ear like the sweet South That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor.” Shakspeare employs his beloved flower as the type of modesty and maidenhood. Indeed, poets are con¬ tinually using this retiring blossom as an emblem of those qualities. “ She steals timidly away, Shrinking as violets do in Summer’s ray.”— Moore. Barry Cornwall gives it the preference over the rose: “ The king told Gyges of the purple flower ; It chanced to be the flower the boy liked most : It has a scent as though Love, for its dower, Had on it all his odorous arrows tost; For though the rose has more perfuming power* The violet—haply ’cause ’tis almost lost, And takes us so much trouble to discover— Stands first with most, but always with a lover.” “No flowers grew in the vale, Kissed by the dew, wooed by the gale— None by the dew of the twilight wet, So sweet as the deep blue violet.”— L. E. L. “ When the grave shall open for me— I care not how soon that time may be— 40 FLORAL POESY. Never a rose shall grow on that tomb, It breathes too much of hope and bloom ; But there be that flower’s meek regret, The bending and deep blue violet.”—L. E. L. Whilst the first Napoleon was in exile, this little blossom was adopted by his followers as an emblem ; he was styled Pere la Violette, and a small bunch of violets hung up in the house, or worn by a Frenchman, de¬ noted the adherence of the wearer to his fallen chief¬ tain’s cause. It is still the emblem of the Bonapartes. The White Violet, which is not invariably scentless, as is sometimes erroneously presumed, is emblematic of candor, although some authors adopt it as the repre¬ sentative of innocence . TO A FADING VIOLET. SHELLEY. The color from the flower is gone, Which like thy sweet eyes smiled on me; The odor from the flower is flown, Which breathed of thee, and only thee ! A withered, lifeless, vacant form, It lies on my abandoned breast, And mocks the heart which yet is warm, With cold and silent rest. I weep—my tears revive it not; I sigh—it breathes no more on me ; Its mute and uncomplaining lot Is such as mine should be. VIOLET. 41 VIOLETS. J. MOULTRIE. Under the green hedges after the snow. There do the dear little violets grow, Hiding their modest and beautiful heads Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds. Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky, Down there do the dear little violets lie, Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen ; By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been. THE ALPINE VIOLET. BY LORD BYRON. The Spring is come, the Violet’s gone, The first-born child of the early sun ; With us she is but a winter flower, The snow on the hills cannot blast her bower ; And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue To the youngest sky of the self-same hue. But when the Spring comes with her host Of flowers, that flower, beloved the most, Shrinks from the crowd, that may confuse Her heavenly odors and virgin hues. Pluck the others, but still remember Their herald, out of dire December ; 42- floral POESY. The morning star of all the flowers. The pledge of daylight’s lengthen’d hours. And ’mid the Roses, ne’er forget The virgin, virgin Violet. THE ANGRY VIOLETS. DRAYTON. The pansy and the violet here. As seeming to descend Both from one root, a very pair, For sweetness do contend. And pointing to a pink to tell Which bears it, it is loth To judge it; but replies, for smell, That it excels them both. Wherewith displeased they hang their heads. So angry soon they grow. And from their odoriferous beds Their sweets at it they throw. VIOLETS. MISS LANDON. I do love violets. They tell a history of woman’s love ; They open with the earliest breath of spring; Lead a sweet life of perfume, dew, and light. VIOLET. 43 And if they perish, perish with a sigh Delicious as that life. On the hot June They shed no perfume ; the flowers may remain. But the rich breathing of their leaves is past; Like woman, they have lost their loveliest gift When yielding to the fiery hour of passiom —The violet-breath of love is purity. A BOUQUET OF SPRING VIOLETS. SHELLEY. After the slumber of the year The woodland violets reappear ; All things revive in field and grove. And sea and sky ; but two, which move And form all others, life and love. A VIOLET BANK. SHAKSPEARE. I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows : Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk roses and with eglantine. THE VIOLET. FROM THE GERMAN OP GOETHE. A Violet blossom’d on the green. With lowly stem, and bloom unseen; FLOKAL POESY. It was a sweet, low flower. A shepherd maiden came that way, With lightsome step and aspect gay. Came near, came near, Came o’er the green with song. Ah ! thought the Violet, might I be The fairest flower on all the lea. Ah ! but for one brief hour : And might be plucked by that dear maid. And gently on her bosom laid. Ah ! but, ah ! but A few dear moments long. Alas ! the maiden, as she pass’d. No eye upon the Violet cast; She crush’d the poor wee flower; It sank, and, dying, heaved no sigh. And if I die, at least I die By her, by her. Beneath her feet I die. THE YELLOW VIOLET. BRYANT. When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird’s warble know. The yellow violet’s modest bell Peeps from the last year’s leaves below. Ere russet fields their green resume, Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare. To meet thee, when thy faint perfume Alone is in the virgin air. VIOLET. 45 Of all her train, the hands of Spring First plant thee in the watery mold : And I have seen thee blossoming Beside the snow-bank’s edges cold. Thy parent sun, who bade thee view Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip, Has bathed thee in his own bright hue, And streaked with jet thy glowing lip. Y t slight thy form, and low thy seat, And earthward bent thy gentle eye, Unapt the passing view to meet, When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh. Oft, in the sunless April day, Thy early smile has stayed my walk ; But ’midst the gorgeous blooms of May, I passed thee on thy humble stalk. So they, who climb to wealth, forget The friends in darker fortunes tried, I copied them—but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride. And when again the genial hour Awakes the painted tribes of light, I’ll not o’erlook the modest flower That made the woods of April bright. 46 FLORAL POESY, NARCISSUS. {Self-love.) f | THE white or poetical Narcissus is adopted as the emblem of egotism, because, according to the mythologists, it owes its origin to a beautiful youth of Bceotia, of whom it had been foretold that he should live happily until he beheld his own face. One day, when heated by the chase, Narcissus sought to quench his thirst in a stream ; in so doing he beheld the re¬ flection of his own features, of which he immediately became enamored. He was spellbound to the spot, where he pined to death, and was metamorphosed by the gods into the flower that now bears his name. When the Naiads had prepared the funeral pile for Narcissus, his body was missing : “ Instead whereof a yellow flower was found, With tufts of white about the button crowned ; ” and ever since is seen “ Narcissus fair, As o’er the fabled fountain hanging still.” The poetic Narcissus has a snow-white flower, with a yellow cup in the center, fringed on the border with a brilliant crimson circlet. It is sweet scented, and NARCISSUS 47 flowers in May. The cup in the center is supposed to contain the tears of tlu ill fated Narcissus. ELeats terms it “ a lovely flower : ” “ A meek and forlorn flower, with nought of pride.” And Shelley speaks thus of it: “ The pied windflowers and the tulip tall. And Narcissi, the fairest among them all, Who gaze on their eyes in the stream’s recess, Till they die at their own dear loveliness.” ECHO AND NARCISSUS. MILTON. Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv’st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander’s margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale, Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are ? 0, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere, So mayest thou he translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven s harmonies. 48 FLORAL POESY. NARCISSUS. Let long-lived pansies here their scents bestow. The violet languish, and the roses glow ; In yellow glory let the crocus shine, Narcissus here his love-sick head recline ; Here hyacinths in purple sweetness rise, And tulips tinged with beauty’s fairest dyes. TO A MIRROR. FKOM GARCILASO DE LA VEGA. Since still my passion-pleading strains Have failed her heart to move, Show, mirror, to that'lovely maid. The charms that make me love. Reflect on her the thrilling beam Of magic from her eye ; So, like Narcissus, she shall gaze. And, self-enamored, die. X - DEATH OF NARCISSUS. ADDISON. J hen on th’ unwholesome earth he gasping lies. Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes. NARCISSUS. 49 To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires. And in the Stygian waves itself admires. For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn. Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn : And now the sister nymphs prepare his urn ; When, looking for his corpse, they only found A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crowned. NARCISSUS. 1 saw the pride of all the meadow At morn, a gay Narcissus blow Upon a river’s hank, whose shadow Bloomed in the silver waves below. By noontide’s heat its youth was wasted, The waters as they passed complained; At eve its glories all were blasted, And. not one former grace remained. TO THE NARCISSUS. BEN JONSON. Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo, rise ; Here, by this fountain, where thy love did pine. Whose memory lives fresh to vulgar fame, Shrined in this yellow flower, that bears his name. 50 FLORAL POESY. ECHO. His name revives, and lifts me up from earth ; See, see, the mourning fount, whose springs weep yet, Th’ untimely fate of that too beauteous boy, That trophy of self-love, and spoil of nature, Who (now transformed into this drooping flower) Hangs the repentant head back from the stream : As if it wished,—would I had never looked fn such a flattering mirror ! 0 Narcissus ! Thou that wast once (and yet art) my Narcissus, Had Echo but been private with thy thoughts. She would have dropt away herself in tears, Till she had all turned waste, that in her (As in a truer glass) thou mightst have gazed, And seen thy beauties by more kind reflection. But self-love never yet could look on truth, But with bleared beams ; slick flattery and she Are twin-born sisters, and do mix their eyes, As if you sever one, the other dies. Why did the gods give thee a heavenly form And earthly thoughts to make thee proud of it ? Why do I ask ? ’Tis now the known disease i hat beauty hath, to bear too deep a sense Of her own self-conceived excellence. Oh hadst thou known the worth of Heaven’s rich gift, Thou wouldst have turned it to a truer use, And not (with starved and covetous ignorance) Pined in continual eyeing that bright gem The glance whereof to others had been more Than to thy famished mind the wide world’s store. \ \ NARCISSUS. 51 THE NARCISSUS. KEATS. What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus pining o’er the untainted spring ? In some delicious ramble he bad found A little space, with boughs all woven round • And in the midst of all a clearer pool Than ere reflected in its pleasant cool The blue sky, here and there serenely peeping. Through tendril wreaths fantastically creeping. And on the bank a lonely flower he spied, A meek and forlorn flower, with nought of pride. Drooping its beauty o’er the watery clearness, To woo its own sad image into nearness : Deaf to light Zephyrus it would not move, But still would seem to droop, to pine, to love. So while the poet stood in this sweet spot, Some fainter gleamings o’er his fancy shot; Nor was it long ere he had told the tale Of young Narcissus, and sad Echo’s wail. THE NARCISSUS. GAY. Here young Narcissus o’er the fountain stood. And viewed his image in the crystal flood ; The crystal flood reflects his lovely charms. And the pleased image strives to meet his arms. No nymph his inexperienced breast subdued, Echo in vain the flying boy pursued. Himself alone, tbe foolish youth admires, And with fond look the smiling shade desires; 52 FLORAL POES?. 0 or the smooth lake with fruitless tears he grieves j His spreading fingers shoot in verdant leaves ; Through his pale veins green sap now gently flows, And in a short-lived flower his beauty blows. Let vain Narcissus warn each female breast. That beauty’s but a transient good at best; Like flowers it withers with th’ advancing year. And age like winter robs the blooming fair. THE NARCISSUS. MISS LANDON. The pale and delicate Narcissus’ flowers Bending so languidly, as still they found In the pure wave a love and destiny. BUTTERCUPS. (Riches—Memories of Childhood.) T3LATJTIFULLY does the great poet, Robert T3 Browning, call these emblems of riches, “the buttercups, the little children’s dower.” BUTTERCUPS. ELlZA COOK. ’Tis sweet to love in childhood, when the souls that we bequeath Are beautiful in freshness as the coronals we wreathe ; BUTTERCUPS. 53 When we feed the gentle robin, and caress the leaping hound, And linger latest on the spot where buttercups are found : When we seek the bee and ladybird with laughter, shout, and song, And think the day for wooing them can never be too long. Oh ! ’tis sweet to love in childhood, and though stirred by meanest things, The music that the heart yields then will never leave its stings. ’Tis sweet to love in after years the dear one by our side ; To dote with all the mingled joys of passion, hope, and pride; To think the chain around our breast will hold still warm and fast, And grieve to know that death must come to break the link at last. But when the rainbow span of bliss is waning, hue by hue ; When eyes forget their kindly beams, and lips become less true ; When stricken hearts are pining on through many a lonely hour, Who would not sigh ‘ ’tis safer far to love the bird and flower ? ’ ’Tis sweet to love in ripened age the trumpet blast of Fame, To pant to live on Glory’s scroll, though blood may trace the name; 54 FLORAL POESY. ’Tis sweet to love the heap of gold, and hng it to our breast,— To trust it as the guiding star and anchor of our rest. But such devotion will not serve—however strong the zeal— To overthrow the altar where our childhood loved to kneel. Some bitter moment shall o’ercast the sun of wealth and power. And then proud man would fain go back to worship bird and flower. HAWTHORN. [Hope .) B Y the Greeks the hawthorn was deemed one of the fortunate trees. The Romans accounted it a symbol of marriage because it was carried at the rape of the Sabines ; it was ever after considered propitious. Its flowering branches were borne aloft at their mar¬ riages, and the newly-wedded pair were even lighted to the nuptial chamber with torches of its wood. The Turks regard the presentation of a branch of hawthorn as donating the donor’s desire to receive from the object of his affection that token of love denomi¬ nated a kiss. Ronsard—sometimes styled the French Chaucer— wrote a beautiful address to the hawthorn, thus faith¬ fully rendered : “ Fair hawthorn flowering. With green shade boweriug HAWTHORN. 55 Along this lovely shore ; To thy foot around With his long arms wound A wild vine has mantled thee o’er. “ In armies twain, Red ants have ta’en Their fortress beneath thy stock ; And in clefts of thy trunk Tiny bees have sunk A cell where honey they lock. “ In merry Spring-tide, When to woo his bride The nightingale comes again, Thy boughs among He warbles his song, That lightens a lover’s pain. ***** “ Gentle hawthorn, thrive, And, forever alive, May’st thou blossom as now in thy prime ; By the wind unbroke, And the thunder-stroke, Unspoiled by the axe of time.’ Chaucer thus sings of it: Furth goth all the Courte, both most and lest, To fetche the flouris freshe, and braunche and blome And namely hauthorne brought both page and grome. With freshe garlandis partly blew and white, And than rejoisin in their grete delight. “ Amongst the many buds proclaiming May (Decking the meads in holiday array, Striving who shall surpass in bravery) Mark the fair blooming of the hawthorn tree ; Who, finely clothed in a robe of white, - Feeds full the wanton eye with May’s delight, 56 FLORAL POESY. Yet for the bravery that she is in Doth neither handle card nor wheel to spin, Nor changeth robes but twice ; is never seen In other colors than in white or green. Learn then, content, young shepherd, from this tree. Whose greatest wealth is Nature’s livery.” Spenser tells us in his “Shepherd’s Calendar,” “ Youth’s folk now flocken everywhere, To gather May-baskets and smelling breere; And home they hasten the posts to dight, And all the kirk-pillars ere daylight, With hawthorn-buds, and sweet eglantine, And garlands of roses, and sops-in-wine.” Herrick, m his “ Hesperides,” has a beautiful idyl descriptive of the manner in which maids went a-May- ing. GOING A-MAY r ING. JOHN INGRAM. Oh, we will go a-Maying, love, A-Maying we will go, Beneath the branches swaying, love. With weight of scented snow. Laburnum’s golden tresses, love, Float in the perfumed air ; Which heedless their caresses, love. Seeks violets in their lair ; And with their scents a-playing, love, It gambols to and fro— Where we will go a-Maying, love, Where we will Maying go. HAWTHORN. f>7 The bees are busy humming, love. Amid the opening blooms, Foretelling Summer’s coming, love— Farewell to wintry glooms. The primrose pale, from crinkly sheen. Up from the ground now speeds ; And cowslips slim, ’mid leafy green, Else in the unknown meads. And buttercups are weighing, love. The gold they soon must strow— Where we will go a-Maymg, love, Where we will Maying go. The hawthorn’s bloom is falling, love. We must no longer wait; Each bird is blithely calling, love, Unto his chosen mate ; Each bud unblown is swelling, love. Green grow the vernal fields ; Each insect leaves its dwelling, love. And all to Summer yields : The mowers are out haying, love, Woodbine is in full blow— Where we will go a-Maying, love. Where we will Maying go. GOING A-MAYING. ELIZA COOK. My own land ! my own land ! where freedom finds her throne-land ; Fair thou art, and rare thou art, to every true-born son. 3* 58 FLORAL POESY. Though no gold ore veins thee, though no grape-juice stains thee, We’ve harvest fields, and quartered shields, well kept and nobly won. And we have pleasant tales to tell, And spot in many a native dell, Which we may prize and love as well As Troubadour his story. The lilting troll and roundelay Will nfiver, never pass away, That welcomed in the herald day Of Summer’s rosy glory. And goodly sight of mirth and might, In blood that gained us Cressy’s fight, Was hearts and eyes, all warm and bright About the high and gay pole ; When flower bedight, ’mid leaves and light, Shouts echoed—as it reared upright— Of “ Hurrah for merry England, and the raising of the Maypole ! ” When the good old times had carol rhymes, With morris games and village chimes ; When clown and priest shared cup and feast. And the greatest jostled with the least. At the “ raising of the Maypole ! ” My brave land ! my brave land ! oh ! mayest thou be my grave-land ; For firm and fond will be the bond that ties my heart to thee. When Summer’s beams are glowing, when Autumn’s gusts are blowing, When Winter’s clouds are snowing, thou art still right dear to me. PRIATROSE. 59 But yet, raethinks, I love tliee best When bees are liurst on whitethorn breast, When Spring-tide pours in, sweet and blest, And joy and hope come dancing ! When music from the feathered throng Breaks forth in merry marriage song, And mountain streamlets dash along, Like molten diamonds glancing ! Oh ! pleasant ’tis to scan the page, Rich with the theme of bygone age. When motley fool and learned sage. Brought garlands for the gay pole; When laugh and shout came ringing out From courtly knight and peasant lout, In “Hurrah for merry England, and the raising of the Maypole ! ” When the good old times had carol rhymes, With morris games an$ village chimes ; When clown and priest shared cup and feast. And the greatest jostled with the least, At the “ raising of the Maypole ! ” PRIMROSE. {Youth.) “The primrose I will pu’, the firstling of the year.”—B urns. T HE Primrose, emblematical of youth, has received innumerable deservedly warm encomiums from our poets, but none sweeter than those popular lines of Carew : Ask me why I send you here This firstling of the infant year; 60 FLORAL POESY. Ask me why I send to you This primrose all bepearled with dew ; I straight will whisper in your ears The sweets of love are washed with tears. Ask me why this flower doth show So yellow, green, and sickly too ; Ask me why the stalk is weak And bending, yet it doth not break ; I must tell you, these discover What doubts and fears are in a lover.” Shakspeare, whose floral symbolism was perfect, in¬ ti oduces this delicate blossom into his pathetic drama of “ Cymbeline,” as typical of the youthful dead : “With fairest flowers, Whilst Summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I’ll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose.” Again, in the “ Winter’s Tale,” the grand dramatist still more exquisitely expresses his knowledge of its symbolic character : “ The pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength.” Milton also styles this vernal bloom “ the pale prim¬ rose.* It was described by Carew as “the firstling of spring; ” thus Burns also terms it in “ The Posie,” and Linnaeus appropriately named it in his botanical system ; whilst in his native Swedish it is known as Maj-nychlar, or the “key of May.” Its English ap¬ pellation is derived from primus —“the first”—and happily expresses one of its charms, and shows why it is such a meet emblem of youth. This fragile flower is known classically as Parahsos, PRIMROSE. 61 and was thus styled in commemoration of a youth so named, who pined away with grief for the loss of his betrothed, Melicerta, and was metamorphosed into “ The rathe primrose that, forsaken, dies.” It has been observed of poor Clare that his poems are as thickly strewn with primroses as the woodlands themselves. In his “ Village Minstrel "’ he sings : “ Oh, who can speak his joys when Spring’s young morn From wood and pasture opened on his view, When tender green buds blush upon the thorn, And the first primrose dips his leaves in dew ? “ And while he plucked the primrose in its pride, He pondered o’er its bloom ’tween joy and pride, And a rude sonnet in its praise he tried, Where nature’s simple way the aid of art supplied.” In another place he tells how, as a child, he rambled o’er the fields for flowers, and “ Robbed every primrose-root I met, And ofttimes got the root to set; And joyful home each nosegay bore ; And felt—as I shall feel no more.” In the following lines the old poet, Browne, associates this flower with a scene of rustic idle thoughtlessness: “ As some wayfaring man, passing a wood, Goes jogging on, and in his mind naught hath, But how the primrose finely strews the path.” And the sketch is suggestive of Wordsworth’s oft- quoted idea in “ Peter Bell: ’ “ A primrose by a river’s brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.” 62 FLORAL POESY. THE PRIMROSE. MRS. IIEMANS. I saw it in my evening walk, A little lonely flower ; Under a hollow bank it grew. Deep in a mossy bower. An oak’s gnarled root to roof the cave With gothic fretwork sprung, Whence jeweled fern, and arum-leaves, And ivy garlands hung. And close beneath came sparkling out From an old tree’s fallen shell A little rill that dipt about The lady in her cell. And then, methought, with bashful pride She seemed to sit and look On her own maiden loveliness, Pale imaged in the brook. No other flower, no rival grew Beside my pensive maid ; She dwelt alone, a cloistered nun. In solitude and shade. No ruffling wind could reach her there ; No eye, methought, but mine, Or the young lambs that came to drink, Had spied her secret shrine. And there was pleasantness to me In such belief—cold eyes That slight dear Nature’s loveliness, Profane her mysteries, PRIMROSE. 63 THE EARLY PRIMROSE. HENRY KIRKE WHITE. Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire ! Whose modest form, so delicately fine, W r as nursed in whirling storms, And cradled in the winds. Thee, when young Spring first questioned Winter’s sway; And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw. To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone. Thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms Of chill adversity ; in some lone walk Of life she rears her head, Obscure and unobserved ;— While every bleaching breeze that on her blows. Chastens her spotless purity of breast. And hardens her to bear Serene, the ills of life. PRIMROSES. KEATS. A tuft of evening primroses, O’er which the mind may hover till it dozes ; 64 FLORAL POESY. O’er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that ’tis ever startled by the leap Of buds into ripe flowers. SAD PRIMROSES. PROFESSOR WILSON. But we have daisies, which, like love Or hope, spring everywhere ; And primroses, which droop above Some self-consuming care. So sad, so spiritual, so pale. Born all too near the snow, They pine for that sweet southern gale. Which they will never know. TO A PRIMROSE. PRESENTED TO A FRIEND IN JANUARY. CARRINGTON. Sweet herald of the ever gentle spring, How gently waved o’er thee the winter’s wing ! Around thee blew the warm Favonian gale, Devonia nursed thee in her loveliest vale; Beneath she rolled the Plym’s pellucid stream, And heaven diffused around its quickening beam. But, ah ! the sun, the shower, the zephyr bland, Made thee but fair to tempt the spoiler’s hand I cannot bear thee to thy bank again, And bathe thy breast in soft refreshing rain, PRIMROSE Nor bid the gentle zephyr round thee play, Nor-’raptured eye thee basking in the ray; But snapped untimely from thy velvet stem, Be thou my daily care, my “ bonnie gem,” And when thus severed from thy native glade, The radiance of thy cinque-rayed star shall fade, And pale decay come creeping o’er thy bloom, A sigh, dear flower, shall mourn thy early doom. THE PRIMROSE. MRS. HUNTER. The sun declines, his parting ray Shall bear the cheerful light away, And on the landscape close : Then will I seek the lonely vale, Where sober evening’s primrose pale To greet the night star blows. Soft melancholy bloom, to thee I turn, with conscious sympathy, Like thee my hour is come ; When lengthening shadows slowly Till lost in universal shade, They sink beneath the tomb. By thee I’ll sit, and inly muse, What are the charms in life we lose When time demands our breath. Alas ! the load of lengthened age Has little can our wish engage, Or point the shaft of death. 66 FLORAL POESY. No, ’tis alone the pang to part With those we love, that rends the heart That agony to save, Some nameless cause in nature strives ; Like thee in shades, our hope revives. And blossoms in the grave. TO PRIMROSES. ROBERT HERRICK. Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? can tears Speak grief in you, Who were but born Just as the modest morn Teemed her refreshing dew ? Alas ! you have not known that shower That mars a flower ; Nor felt the unkind Breath of a blasting wind ; Nor are ye worn with years ; Or warped as we Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known The reason why Ye droop and weep ; Is it for want of sleep, Or childish lullaby ? Or that ye have not seen as yet The violet ? Or brought a kiss From that sweetheart to this ? HYACINTH. 67 No, no ; this sorrow, shown By your tears shed, Would have this lecture read : That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth. A BOUQUET. M. E. LEE. Primroses, Which when the shadows fall Like soft dreams o’er the earth, And all around a Sabbath reigns As at Creation’s birth, Burst the magic bonds of clay, And greet with smiles the sun’s last ray. -► » i - - HYACINTH. PURPLE HYACINTH. {Sorrow — Play.) CCORDING to the mythologists, this fairy-like fragile flower had its origin in the death of Hyacinthus, a Spartan youth, greatly favored by Apollo. He fell a victim to the jealous rage of Zephyrus, who, in revenge for the preference mani¬ fested for him by the Sun-god, had determined to effect his destruction. Accordingly, one day when l - ■ — 68 FLOKAL POESY. Hyacinthus was playing at quoits with his divine friend, Zephyrus blew so powerfully upon the quoit flung by Apollo that it struck the unfortunate prince on the temple and killed him, to the intense grief of his innocent slayer. To commemorate the grace and beauty of the dead youth, Apollo, unable to restore him to life, caused the flower which now bears his name to spring from his blood. An annual solemnity, called Hyacinthia, was estab¬ lished in Laconia, in honor of Ilyacinthus. It lasted three days, during which the people, to show their grief for the loss of their darling prince, ate no bread, but fed upon sweetmeats, and abstained from adorning their hair with garlands as on ordinary occasions. The following day was spent in feasting. Hence, perhaps, one of the floral meanings—“Play.” The purple hyacinth signifies sorrow, as it is said to bear on its petals Apollo’s lament for his friend—Ai, Ai—but we fail to trace the letters now. An allusion to Hyacinthus will also be recognized in Milton’s “ Lycidas : ” “Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.”* THE HYACINTH. CASIMIR. Child of the Spring, thou charming flower. No longer in confinement lie, Arise to light, thy form discover. Rival the azure of the sky. * Apollo wrote on its leaves his lament, Ai, Ai. / ROSEMARY. 69 The rains are gone, the storms are o’er, Winter retires to make thee way ; Come, then, thou sweetly blooming flower. Come lovely stranger, come away. The sun is dressed m beaming smiles. To give thy beauties to the day : Young zephyrs wait with gentlest gales. To fan thy bosom as they play. HYACINTHUS. KEATS. Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent On either side, pitying the sad death Of Ilyacinthus, when the cruel breath Of Zephyr slew him ; Zephyr penitent, Who now ere Phoebus mounts the firmament. Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain. ROSEMARY. (Remembrance.) “ There’s rosemary for you : that’s for remembrance.” ShAKSPEABEo O UR forefathers invariably adopted Rosemary as the symbol of remembrance ; it was believed to possess the power of improving the memory, and was frequently employed as a means of invigorating the PuORAI POESY. 70 mental faculties. Perdita, in the “ Winter’s Tale,” says ‘ ‘ For you there’s rosemary and rue ; these keep Seeming and savor all the winter long : Grace and remembrance be with you both ! ” And in “ Hamlet,” Ophelia says : “ There’s rosemary for you : that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.” Michael Drayton, in his “ Pastorals,” also alludes to this emblem in similar terms : ‘ ‘ He from his lass him lavender hath sent, Showing her love, and doth requital crave ; Him rosemary his sweetheart, whose intent Is that he her should in remembrance have.” Respecting its employment at funerals, Mr. Martyn observes that in some parts of England, in his time, it was still customary to distribute it among the company, who frequently threw sprigs of it into the grave. Slips of it were also sometimes placed within the coffin • and in some secluded villages these innocent customs are still practiced. TO THE HERB ROSEMARY. HENRY KIRIiE WHITE. Sweet scented flower ! who art wont to bloom On January’s front severe. And o’er the wintry desert drear, To waft thy waste perfume ! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, And I will bind thee round my brow, And as I twine the mournful wreath, &OSEMARY. 71 I’ll weave a melancholy song, And sweet the strain shall be and long,— The melody of death. Come, funeral flower ! who lovest to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb. And throw across the deepest gloom A sweet decaying smell. Come, press my lips, and lie with me, Beneath the lowly alder tree ; And we will sleep a pleasant sleep. And not a care shall dare intrude To break the marble solitude, So peaceful and so deep. And hark ! the wind god as he flies. Moans hollow in the forest trees. And sailing on the gusty breeze. Mysterious music dies. Sweet flower ! that requiem wild is mine. It warns me to the lowly shrine. The cold turf altar of the dead ; My grave shall be in yon lone spot, Where, as I lie, by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o’er my ashes shed. DIE HERZ BLUME. TOM HOOD. Tiiere grew a little flower once, That blossomed in a day, And some said it would ever bloom, And some ’twould fade away ; 72 FLORAL POESY. And some said it was Happiness, 4nd some said it was Spring, And some said it was Grief and Tears, And many such a thing ; But still the little flower bloomed. And still it lived and throve. And men do it call “ Summer Growth,” But angels call it “ Love ! ” THE LILY OF THE VALLEY (.Return of Happiness.) “Be thy advent the emblem of all I would crave.” Bernard Barton. T HE Lily of the Valley, sometimes called the May Lily, and in some country villages Ladder to Heaven, in the floral languages of Europe is emblema¬ tic of the return of happiness, doubtless in allusion to the season of the year when it puts forth its blossoms. Keats was very fond of it, and says : “No flower amid the garden fairer grows Than the sweet lily of the lowly vale, The queen of flowers.” And further on “ Valley-lilies, whiter still Than Leda’s love.” In that enchanted garden where the sensitive plant grew, Shelley lovingly placed “ The naiad-like lily of the vale, Whom youth makes so fair, and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green.” LILY OF THE VALLEY. 73 THE CHILD AND THE LILY. BRYANT. Innocent child and snow-white flower ! Well are ye paired m your opening hour, Thus should the pure and the lovely meet, Stainless with stainless, and sweet with sweet. White, as those leaves just blown apart, Are the folds of thy own young heart; Guilty passion and cankering care Never have left their traces there. Artless one ! though thou gazest now O’er the white blossoms with earnest brow, Soon will it tire thy childish eye, Fair as it is, thou wilt throw it by. Throw it aside in thy weary hour, Throw to the ground the fair white flower, Yet, as thy tender years depart, Keep that white and innocent heart. THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. CROLY. White bud ! that in meek beauty so dost lean, The cloistered cheek as pale as moonhght snow. Thou seem’st beneath thy huge high leaf of green, An Eremite beneath his mountain’s brow. 4 74 FLORAL POESY. White bud ; thou’rt emblem of a lovelier thing,— The broken spirit that its anguish bears Tc silent shades, and there sits offering To Heaven, the holy fragrance of its tears. THE LILY. PERCIVAL,. I had found out a sweet green spot Where a lily was blooming fair ; The din of the city disturbed it not; But the spirit that shades the quiet cot With its wings of love was there. I found that lily’s bloom When the day was dark and chill : It smiled like a star in a misty gloom. And it sent abroad a sweet perfume, Which is floating around me still. I sat by the lily’s bell, And watched it many a day :— The leaves that rose in a flowing swell, Grew faint and dim, then drooped and fell, And the flower had flown away. I looked where the leaves were laid, In withering paleness, by ; And as gloomy thoughts stole on me, said. There’s many a sweet and blooming maid Who will soon as dimly die. LILY OF THE VALLEY. 75 THE LILY. COLERIDGE. The stream with languid murmur creeps In Lumin’s flowery vale : Beneath the dew the lily weeps, Slow waving to the gale. “ Cease, restless gale ! ” it seems to say, “Nor wake me with thy sighing ! The hours of my vernal day On rapid wings are flying. “ To-morrow shall tho traveller come Who late beheld me blooming ; His searching eye shall vainly roam The dreary vale of Lumin.” I SEND THE LILIES GIVEN TO ME. BY BYRON. I send the lilies given to me, Though, long before thy hand they touch, I know that they must withered be ; But yet reject them not as such : For I have cherished them as dear. Because they yet may meet thine eye. And guide thy soul to mine even here, When thou behold’st them drooping nigh, And know’st them gathered by the Rhine, And offered from my heart to thine ! 76 FLORAL POESY. The river nobly foams and flows, The charm of this enchanted ground. And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher beauty varying round ; The haughtiest breast its wish might bound. Through life to dwell delighted here; Nor could on earth a spot be found To nature and to me so dear. Could thy dear eyes, in following mine, Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! PIMFERNEL. ( Change.) “ More bitter far than all It was to know that love could change and die.” A. A. Procter. HE Pimpernel does not unfold its brilliant petals 1 until eight o’clock in the morning, and refolds them towards noon : this habit has obtained for it the cognomen of “the poor man’s weather-glass ; ” whilst for its usefulness in foretelling the approach of rain, it is frequently known as “the shepherd’s warning.” Few who have passed a portion of their life in the coun¬ try but. are acquainted with this property of the pretty little pimpernel. Whenever its tiny scarlet blossoms are seen folding up their delicate petals, it may be deemed, a certain indication of approaching rain ; and as such a sign Darwin notices it : PIMPERNEL. 77 “ Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel ; In fiery red the sun doth rise, Then wades through clouds to mount the skies 5 ’Twill surely rain, we see’t with sorrow,— No working in the fields to-morrow.” PIMPERNEL. O. W. HOLMES. I. Some years ago, a dark-eyed maid Was sitting in the shade— There’s something brings her to my mind In that young dreaming maid— And in her hand she held a flower, A flower whose speaking lme Said, in the language of the heart, “ Believe the giver true.” And as she looked upon its leaves. The maiden made a vow To wear it when the bridal wreath Was woven for her brow. She watched the flower, as, day by day, The leaflets curled and died ; But he who gave it never came To claim her for his bride. Oh, many a Summer’s morning glow Has lent the rose its ray, And many a Winter’s drifting snow Has swept its bloom away; 78 FLORAL POESY. But she has kept that faithless pledge To this her Winter hour, And keeps it still, herself alone, And wasted like the flower. HEART’S-EASE. 4 OR, PANSY. ( Think of me — Thoughts .) “ There are pansies : that’s for thoughts.”—S haijspeare. HE Heart’s-ectse, as its French name of pansy or -L pensee intimates, is in the language of flowers symbolical of remembrance. It is a beautiful variety of the violet, far surpassing that flower in diversity and brilliancy of color, but possessing little, if any, of the exquisite fragrance for which that is so renowned. The name given to it by the Italians is jlammola, the “little flame,” at least, this is an appellation with which I have met, and it is quite in the taste of that poetical people. The French call it pensee, “a thought.” “There are pansies,” says poor Ophelia: “that’s for thoughts.” Drayton, in the “Muses’ Elysium,” makes his nymph say— “ Amongst these roses in a row, Next place I pinks in plenty, These double daisies then for show. And will not this be dainty ? HEARTS-EASE. 79 The pretty pansy then I’ll tye, Like stones some chain enchasing ; The next to them, their near ally, The purple violet placing. Another of its names is “love-in-idleness,” under which it has been again celebrated by Shakspeare. Besides these names, this tricolored violet is also called, in various country places, “ jump-up-and-kiss- me-quick “ the herb Trinity ; ” “ three-faces-under- a-liood ; ” “ kiss-me-behind-the-garden-gate ; ” and “ cuddle-me-to-you,” which seems to have been altered by time into the less vivacious request of “ call-me-to- you.” HEART’S-EASE. MARY HO WITT. Heart’s-ease ! one could look for half a day Upon this flower, and shape in fancy out Full twenty different tales of love and sorrow, That gave this gentle name. ORIGIN OF THE PANSY’S NAME. (“Love in Idleness.") Told by Oberon, King of the Fairies, to Puck.— Shakspeare. Oder on. My gentle Puck, come hither ; thou re- member’st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin’s back, 80 FLORAL POESY. Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid’s music. Puck. I remember. Oleron. That very time I saw (but thou couldst not) Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west; And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow. As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts. But I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft Quenched in the chaste beams of the wat’ry moon, And the imperial votress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy free. Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower— Before, milk-white ; now purple with love’s wound,— And maidens call it “ Love-in-Idleness.” PANSIES. ROBERT BUCHANAN. “ The lily minds me of a maiden brow,” Hugh Sutherland would say ; “ the marigold Is full and sunny like her yellow hair, The full-blown rose her lips with sweetness tipt; But if you seek a likeness to her eye,— Go to the pansy, friend, and find it there.” “Ay, leeze me on the pansies ! ” Hugh would say, Hugh Sutherland, the weaver,—he who dwelt Here in the whitewashed cot you fancy so,— heart’s-ease. 81 Who knew the learned names of all the flowers. And recognized a lily, though its head Rose in a ditch of dull Latinity ! Pansies ? You praise the ones that grow to-day Here in the garden : had you seen the place When Sutherland was living ! Here they grew From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each A golden dazzle like a glimmering star. Each broader, bigger than a silver crown; While here the weaver sat, his labor done, Watching his azure pets and rearing them Until they seemed to know his step and touch, And stir beneath his smile like living things ! The very sunshine loved them, and would lie Here happy, coming early, lingering late. Because they were so fair. HEART’S-EASE. MRS. SHERIDAN. In gardens oft a beauteous flower there grows. By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen ; In sweet security it humbly blows, And rears its purple head to deck the green. This flower, as Nature’s poet sweetly sings, Was once milk white, and Heart’s-ease was its name. Till wanton Cupid poised his roseate wings, A vestal’s sacred bosom to inflame. 4 * 82 T'LORAL poesy. With treacherous aim the god his arrow drew. Which she with icy coldness did repel ; Rebounding thence with feather speed it flew. Till on this lonely flower at last it fell. Heart’s-ease no more the wandering shepherd found ; No more the nymphs its snowy form possess ; Its white now changed to purple by Love’s wound, Heart’s-ease no more,—’tis Love-in-idleness. HEART’S-EASE. ANON. I used to love thee, simple flower, To love thee dearly when a boy ; For thou didst seem in childhood’s hour. The smiling type of childhood’s joy. But now thou only work’st my grief, By waking thoughts of pleasures fled. Give me, give me the withered leaf. That falls on Autumn’s bosom dead. For that ne’er tells of what has been. But warns me what I soon shall be; It looks not back on pleasure’s scene. But points unto futurity. I love thee not, thou simple flower, For thou art gay, and I am lone ; Thy beauty died with childhood’s hour— The heart s-ease from my path is gone. WALLFLOWER. 83 WALLFLOWER. {Fidelity in Misfortune.) A COMMON garden blossom, that seldom receives all the attention it is worthy of, is the Wallflower, symbolical of fidelity in misfortune. It was a great favorite in the Middle Ages, when troubadours and minstrels wore it as an emblem of the unchangeableness of their affection. Wallflowers belong to the Stock family ; and by far the finest is the common one, which Thomson, in his “ Seasons,” describes as— “ The yellow wallflower, stained with iron brown.” Bernard Barton says of the wallflower : “ An emblem true thou art, Of love’s enduring luster, given To cheer a lonely heart.” And elsewhere : “Tome it speaks of loveliness, That passes not with youth, Of beauty which decay can bless, Of constancy and truth. “ But in adversity’s dark hour, When glory is gone by, It then exerts its gentle power, The scene to beautify.” FLORAL POESY. 84 THE WALLFLOWER. HOIK. The wallflower—the wallflower. How beautiful it blooms ! It gleams above the ruined tower. Like sunlight over tombs ! It sheds a halo of repose Around the wrecks of time To beauty give the flaunting rose. The wallflower is sublime. Flower of the solitary place ! Gray ruin’s golden crown ! Thou lendest melancholy grace To haunts of old renown ; Thou mantlest o’er the battlement. By strife or storm decayed ; And fillest up each envious rent Time’s canker-tooth hath made. Whither hath fled the choral band That filled the abbey’s nave ? Yon dark sepulchral yew-trees stand O’er many a level grave ; In the belfry’s crevices the dove Her young brood nurseth well, Whilst thou lone flower ! dost shed above A sweet decaying smell. In the season of the tulip cup, When blossoms clothe the irees. How sweet to throw the lattice up, And scent thee on the breeze ! WALLFLOWER. The butterfly is then abroad, The bee is on the wing, And on the hawthorn by the road The linnets sit and sing. Sweet wallflower—sweet wallflower ! Thou conjurest up to me. Full many a soft and sunny hour Of boyhood’s thoughtless glee ; When joy from out the daisies grew In woodland pastures green, And summer skies were far more blue Than since they e’er have been. Now Autumn’s pensive voice is heard Amid the yellow bowers, The robin is the regal bird, And thou the queen of flowers l He sings on the laburnum trees. Amid the twilight dim. And Araby ne’er gave the breeze Such scents as thou to him. Rich is the pink, the lily gay, The rose is summer’s guest; Bland are thy charms when these decay— Of flowers, first, last, and best ! There may be gaudier on the bower. And statelier on the tree ; But wallflower, loved wallflower Thou art the flower for me ; 86 floral poesy. THE WALLFLOWER. ANON. Cheerful ’midst desolation’s sadness— thou— Fair flower, art wont to grace the moldering pile. And brightly bloom o’er ruin, like a smile Reposing calm on age’s furrowed brow_ Sweet monitor ! an emblem sure I see Of virtue, and of virtue’s power, in thee. For though thou cheerest the dull ruin’s gloom, Still when thou rt found upon the gay parterre, There thou art sweetest—fairest of the fair So virtue, while it robs of dread the tomb, Shines in the crown that youth and beauty wear. Being best of all the gems that glitter there. THE NAMING OF THE WALLFLOWER. herrtck. Why this flower is now called so, List, sweet maids, and you shall know. Understand this firstling was Once a brisk and bonny lass, Kept as close as Danae was, Who a sprightly springald loved ; And to have it fully proved. Up she got upon a wall, Tempting down to slide withal; But the silken twist untied, So she fell, and, bruised, she died. FORGET-ME-NOT. 87 Jove, in pity of the deed, And her loving, luckless speed, Turned her to this plant we call Now “ the flower of the wall.” FORGET-ME-NOT. npHIS lovely little flower has a charming legend at- -L tached to it. We give it in its best poetic form at once. THE BRIDE OF THE DANUBE. MISS PICKERSGILL. “ See how yon glittering wave in sportive play Washes the bank, and steals the flowers away. And must they thus in bloom and beauty die, Without the passing tribute of a sigh ? ” “No, Bertha, those young flowerets there Shall form a braid for thy sunny hair; T yet will save one, if but one Soft smile reward me when ’tis done.” He said, and plunged into the stream— His only light was the moon’s pale beam. “ Stay ! stay ! ” she cried—but he had caught The drooping flowers, and breathless sought To place the treasures at the feet Of her from whom e’en death were sweet. 88 FLORAL POESY. With outstretched arms upon the shore she stood, With tearful eye she gazed upon the flood, Whose swelling tide now seemed as if ’twould sever Her faithful lover from her arms forever. Still through the surge he panting strove to gain The welcome strand—but, ah ! he strove in vain ! Yet once the false stream bore him to the spot Where stood his bride in muteness of despair : And scarcely had he said, Forget me not ! ” And flung the dearly ransomed flowerets there, When the dark wave closed o’er him, and no more Was seen young Kodolph on the Danube’s shore. Aghast she stood; she saw the tranquil stream Pass o’er him—could it be a fleeting dream ? Ah, no ! the last fond words, “ Forget me not ! ” Told it was all a sad reality. With frantic grasp the dripping flowers she prest. Too dearly purchased, to her aching breast. Alas ! her tears, her sorrows now were vain, For him she loved she ne’er shall see again ! Is this then a bridal, where, sad in her bower. The maid weeps alone at the nuptial hour ; Where hushed is the harp, and silent the lute— Ah ! why should their thrilling strains be mute ? And where is young Rodolph? where stays the bride¬ groom ? Go, ask the dark waters, for there is his tomb. Often at eve when maidens rove Beside the Danube’s wave, FORGET-ME-NOT. 89 v — They tell the tale of hapless love, And show young Rodolph’s grave ; And cull the flowers from that sweet spot. Still calling them “ Forget-me-not.” FORGET-ME-NOT. There is a little modest flower. To friendship ever dear, ’Tis nourished in her humble bower. And watered by her tear. If hearts by fond affection tried, Should chance to slip away. This little flower will gently chide The heart that thus would stray. All other flowers when once they fade Are left alone to die, But this e’en when it is decayed, Will live in memory’s sigh. FORGET ME NOT. D. M. MOIR. Summer was on the hills when last we parted. Now the bright moon is shining O’er the gay mountain and the stilly sea, As, by the streamlet’s willowy bend reclining I pause, remembering thee. 90 FLORAL POESY. Yes ! as we roamed, the sylvan earth seemed glowing With many a beauty, unremarked before : The soul was like a deep urn overflowing With thoughts, a treasured store ; The very flowers seemed born but to exhale, As breathed tfie west, their fragrance to the gale. Methinks, even yet I feel thy timid fingers With their bland pressure thrilling bliss to mine ; Methinks, yet on my cheek thy breathing lingers As—fondly leant to thine, I told, how life all pleasureless would be, Green palm-tree of life’s desert! wanting thee. Not yet, not yet had disappointment shrouded Youth’s summer calm with storms of wintry strife : The star of hope shone o’er our path unclouded. And fancy colored life With those elysian rainbow hues, which Truth Melts with his rod, when disenchanting youth. Yet should it cheer me, that nor woe hath shattered The ties that link our hearts, nor hate nor wrath ; And soon the day may dawn, when shall be scattered All shadows from our path, For ah ! with others wealth and mirth would be Less sweet, by far, than sorrow shared with thee ! Yes ! vainly, foolishly the vulgar reckon, That happiness resides in outward shows : Contentment from the lowliest cot may beckon True love to sweet repose : For genuine bliss can ne’er be far apart, When soul meets soul, and heart responds to heart. FORGET-ME-NOT. 91 SONG OF THE FORGET-ME-NOT. How many bright flowers now around me aio glancing, Each seeking its praise, or its beauty enhancing ! The rose-buds are hanging like gems in the air, And the lily-bell waves in her fragrance there. Alas ! I can claim neither fortune nor power, Neither beauty nor fragrance are cast in my lot; Rut contented I cling to my lowly bower, And smile while 1 whisper— Forget-me-not! FORGET-ME-NOT. NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. I culled each flow’ret for my fair, The wild thyme and the heather bell ; And round them twined a tendril rare— She said the posy pleased her well. But of the flowers that deck the field, Or grace the garden of the cot, Though others richer perfumes yield, • The sweetest is forget-me-not. We roamed the mead, we climbed the hill, We rambled o’er the breckan brae ; The trees that crowned the mossy rill, They screened us from the glare of day. She said she loved the sylvan bower, Was charmed with ev’ry rural spot; And when arrived the parting hour, Her last words were “ forget-me-not! ” 92 FLORAL POESY CAN YOU FORGET ME ? L. E. L. Autumn, while into languid Winter drooping, Gave its last blossoms, opening but to fall. & Can you forget them ? Can you forget me Y* I am not relying On plighted vows—alas ! I know their worth. Man s faith to woman is a trifle, dying Upon the very breath that gave it birth. FORGET-ME-NOT. WITH SOME FORGET-ME NOTS. JOHN INGRAM. Dear girl I send the spray of flowers_ All withered now, once brightest blue— To call to mind those happy hours, Those happy hours I passed with you. Forget me not! though others win The glorious right to call thee “theirs !” Forget me not ! that might have been The answer to my fervid prayers. For I have had thy hand in mine, And once our ways in life seemed blended; And once I thought our loves might twine, But now, alas ! that dream is ended. HOLLYHOCK. 93 Forget me not! for I am lonely, And stranded on Life’s desert shore ; Forget me not!—I ask that only— For now our paths may meet no more. Could I but think you don’t forget, Though all my hopes of life should perish, I’d pass them by without regret, So that that thought I still might cherish. Forget me not! ’tis all I ask. And though thy hand may be another’s. I’ll wear upon my face a mask Of smiles to hide the grief it covers. Let, then, these withered flowers recall Each broken link of Memory’s chain ; And from the Past’s dim haunted hall Those happy hours bring back again. Forget me not ! mine only love— Ah ! would indeed that you were mine! Forget me not! my long-lost dove, In dreams my heart will beat next thine ! »-+ - 4 HOLLYHOCK. (Ambition.) “The fallen hollyhock.”—E benezer Elliot. PT^HE emblem of that crime by which Wolsey tells us the angels fell is the tall and stately Hollyhock. A few years ago it was often designated the “ garden 94 FLORAL POESY. mallow,” and, indeed, belongs to the mallow family. From the fact that it is known in France as Rose cl'outre Mer, or “rose from beyond the sea,” it has been surmised that it was first introduced into Europe from Syria by the Crusaders. “ Queen Hollyhock, with butterflies for crowns.” THE ROSE. ( Love — Joy — Prosperity.) HE Rose has been acknowledged by all antiquity to be the queen of flowers, though her reign is somewhat disputed by the queen Lily. One is tempted to look on them both as sister sovereigns of the floral world. The Rose, the emblem of a material dominion “ of the earth earthy ; ” the Lily, of a spiritual empire of purity and lofty aspiration. But with all peoples the Rose has ever been the emblem of love, joy, and prosperity. It is mentioned by the earliest writers of antiquity. Herodotus speaks of the double rose ; in the song of Solomon the rose of Sharon is mentioned, and allusion is also made to the plantation of roses at Jericho. Isaiah uses the blossoming of the rose as a perfect em¬ blem of joy and felicity. The ancients regarded the Rose as the emblem of silence, as well as of love and joy, and frequently repre¬ sented Cupid offering one to Ilarpocrates, the Cod of Silence. As a further illustration of this symbolism, ROSE. 95 they suspended a rose over the table at feasts, intimat¬ ing to the assembled guests that the conversation was to be held sacred, and was not to be repeated elsewhere. This latter account is generally given as the correct derivation of the saying, “sub rosa,” applied to com¬ munications not to be repeated; but some writers say that the rose was once dedicated to Harpocrates, and thus became the emblem of taciturnity, for which reason, it is averred, it is frequently placed over the confessionals in Roman Catholic churches, indicating the secresy winch should attend whatever may be there disclosed to the ears of the priest. Roses were more highly prized by the Romans than any other flower ; they considered them emblematic of joy, and, in conformity with that idea, represented Comus, the God of pleasure, as a handsome young man, crowned with a garland of roses, the leaves of which glistened with dewdrops. The Rose Avas, above all, the emblem of love : “ Most glorious rose, You are the queenly belle. On you all eyes Admiring turn. Doubtless you might indite Romances from your own sweet history— They’re quite the fashion now, and crowd the page Of every periodical. Wilt tell None of your heart adventures ? Never mind ! We plainly read the Zephyr’s stolen kiss In your deep blush ; so where’s the use to seal Your lips so cunningly, when all the world Calls you the flower of love f ”— Mrs. Sigourney. Anacreon thus Avrites of it: “ The rose, the flower of love, Mingle with our quaffing ; 96 FLORAL POESY. The rose, the lovely leaved, Round our brows be weaved, Genially laughing. “ Oh, the rose, the first of flowers, Darling of the early bowers, E’en the gods for thee have places ; Thee, too, Cytherea’s boy Weaves about his locks for joy, Dancing with the Graces. The short life of this queenly flower causes it, when fading, to be deemed a suitable representative of fleeting beauty, and many are the “morals” that the poets have deduced from its brief existence ; but there is another record to be made, and that is of its fragrance after death : the flush of beauty may be gone from its withered petals, .but the scent of the rose will cling to it still; and so, even when life is over, we yet place, as Barry Cornwall says : “ First of all the rose, because its breath Is rich beyond the rest; and when it dies, It doth bequeath a charm to sweeten death.” “ The heart doth recognize thee, Alone, alone ! the heart doth smell thee sweet, Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete, Perceiving all those changes that disguise thee. Yes, and the heart doth owe thee, More love, dead rose, than to any roses bold, Which Julia wears at dances, smiling cold ! Lie still upon this heart, which breaks below thee ! ” Mas. Browning. “ Love is like a rose, And a month it may not see Ere it withers where it grows.”—B ailey. ROSE. 9? Spenser has bequeathed us a very felicitous stanza about the rose as an emblem of modesty and fragility : “Ah ! see the virgin rose, how sweetly she Doth first peep forth with bashful modesty, That fairer seems the less ye see her may ! Lo ! see soon after how, more bold and free, Her bared bosom she doth broad display ! Lo ! see soon after how she fades and falls away 1 ” Sir Walter Scott tells us : / The rose is fairest when ’tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalmed with tears.’’ THE DYING ROSEBUD. MRS. OSGOOD. Ah me ! ah, woe is me ! That I should perish now. With the dear sunlight just let in Upon my balmy brow. My leaves, instinct with glowing life. Were quivering to unclose ; My happy heart with love was rife— I was almost a rose. Nerved by a hope, rich, warm, intense, Already I had risen Above my cage’s curving fence, My green and graceful prison. 5 98 FLORAL POESY. My pouting lips, by Zephyr pressed, Were just prepared to part, And whisper to the wooing wind The rapture of my heart. In new-born fancies reveling, My mossy cell half-riven, Each thrilling leaflet seemed a wing To bear me into heaven. How oft, while yet an infant flower, My crimson cheek I've laid Against the green bars of my bower. Impatient of the shade ; And pressing up and peeping through Its small but precious vistas, Sighed for the lovely light and dew That blessed my elder sisters. I saw the sweet breeze rippling o’er Their leaves that loved the play. Though the light thief stole all the store Of dewdrop gems away. I thought how happy I should be Such diamond wreaths to wear, And frolic with a rose’s glee With sunbeam, bird, and air. Ah me ! ah, woe is me ! that I, Ere yet my leaves unclose, With all my wealth of sweets, must die Before I am a rose ! ROSE. 99 THE LESSON OF A HOSE. SPENSER. Ah ! see whoso fayre thing doest faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day ! Ah ! see the virgin rose, how sweetly shee Doth first peepe foorth with bashfull modesteo. That fairer seems the lesse ye see her may ! Lo ! see soone after how, more bold and free, Her bared bosome she doth broad display ; Lo ! see soone after how she fades and falls away ! So passeth, in the passing of a day Of mortal life, the leafe, the bud, the flowre ; No more doth florish after first decay. That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a lady, and many a paramowre ! Gather therefore the rose whilest yet is prime ; For soon comes age that will her pride defloure ; Gather the rose of love whilest yet is time, Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with equal crime. ZULEIKA’S ROSE. BYRON. A single rose is shedding there Its lonely luster, meek and pale : It looks as planted by despair— So white, so faint—the slightest gale Might whirl the leaves on high ; And yet, though storms and blight assail. And hands more rude than wintry sky 100 FLORAL POESY. May wring it from its stem : in vain - To-morrow sees it bloom again ! * * * * 31 To it tlie livelong night there sings A bird unseen, but not remote : Invisible his airy wings, But soft as harp that Ilouri strings His long entrancing note. THE ROSE. The rose o’er crag or vale, Sultana of the nightingale, The maid for whom his melody, His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover’s tale : His queen, the garden queen, his rose, Unbent by winds, unchilled by snows, Far from the winters of the west, By every breeze and season blest, Be turns the sweets by nature given In softest incense back to heaven. A SONG OF THE ROSE. HEMANS. Bose ! what dost thou here. Bridal, royal rose ? How, ’midst grief and fear, Canst thou thus disclose That fervid hue of love, which to thy heart-leaf glows ? ROSE. 101 Rose ! here too much arrayed For triumphal hours, Look’st thou through the shade Of these mortal bowers, Not to disturb my soul, thou crowned one of all flowers ? A? an eagle soaring Through a sunny sky, As a clarion pouring Notes of victory, So dost thou kindle thoughts, for earthly life too high— Thoughts of rapture, flushing Youthful poet’s cheek, Thoughts of glory rushing Forth in song to break, But finding the spring-tide of rapid song too weak. Yet, 0 festal rose ! I have seen thee lying In thy bright repose Pillowed with the dying, Thy crimson by the life’s quick blood was flying. Summer, hope, and love. O’er that bed of pain. Met in thee, yet wove Too, too frail a chain In its embracing links the lovely to detain. Smil’st thou, gorgeous flower ?— Oh ! within the spells _ Of thy beauty’s power Something dimly dwells, At variance with a world of sorrows and farewells. 102 FLORAL POESY. All the soul forth flowing In that rich perfume. All the proud life glowing In that radiant bloom, Have they no place but here, beneath th’ o’er- shadowing tomb ? Crown’st thou but the daughters Of our tearful race ? —■ Heaven’s own purest waters Well might bear the trace Of thy consummate form, melting to softer grace. Will that clime infold thee With immortal air ? Shall we not behold thee Bright and deathless there ? In spirit-luster clothed, transcendently more fair ? Yes ! my fancy sees thee In that light disclose. And its dream thus frees thee From the mist of woes. Darkening thine earthly bowers, 0 bridal, royal rose 1 THE ROSE. elton’s specimens. Did Jove a queen of flowers decree. The rose the queen of flowers should be. Of flowers the eye ; of plants the gem ; The meadow’s blush ; earth’s diadem ; Glory of colors, on the gaze Lightening in its beauty’s blaze; I ROSE. 103 It breathes of love ; it blooms the guest Of Venus’ ever-fragrant breast; In gaudy pomp its petals spread ; Light foliage trembles round its head ; With vermeil blossoms fresh and fau¬ lt laughs to the voluptuous air. THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. BY T. MOORE. ’Tis the last Rose of summer Left blooming alone. All her lovely companions Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No Rosebud is nigh. To reflect back her blushes And give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one. To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping. Go sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves on the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may I follow When friendships decay, And from love’s shining circle The gems drop away ; 104 FLORAL POESY. When true hearts lie wither’d. And fond ones are flown, Oh ! who would inhabit This cold world alone ? GATHER YOUR ROSES. ANTHOLOGIA OXONINESIS. Live while you live, my boys ! Yet while the lamp doth shine ; Gather your roses Ere they decline. Man makes himself both cares and pains He seeks for thorns, and thorns he gams But lets, alas ! unheeded pass The violet in his way. Live while you live, my boys ! Yet while the lamp doth shine ; Gather your roses Ere they decline. ODE. ANACREON (TRANSLATED BV MOORE.) Buds of roses, virgin flowers Culled from Cupid’s balmy bowers, In the bowl of Bacchus steep, Till with crimson drops they weep ! ROSE. 105 Twine the rose, the garland twine, Every leaf distilling wine ; Drink and smile, and learn to think That we were horn to smile and drink. Rose ! thou art the sweetest flower That ever drank the amber shower ; Rose ! thou art the fondest child Of dimpled spring, the wood-nymph wild ! Even the gods who walk the sky Are amorous of thy scented sigh. Cupid too, in Paphian shades. His hair with rosy fillet braids. Then bring me showers of roses, bring, And shed them round me while I sing. THE MOSS ROSE. FROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER. The Angel of the flowers one day, Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay ; That spirit to whose charge ’tis given To bathe young buds m dews of heaven;— Awakening from his light repose, The Angel whispered to the Rose : “ 0 fondest object of my care, Still fairest found, where all are fair ; For the sweet shade thou giv’st to me, Ask what thou wilt, ’tis granted thee ! ” Then said the Rose, with deepened glow, “On me another grace bestow ; ” 5* 106 FLORAL POESY. The spirit paused in silent thought,— What grace was there that flower had not P ’Twas but a moment—o’er the Eose A veil of moss the Angel throws, And, robed m nature’s simplest weed, Could there a flower that rose exceed ? THE ROSE. % TRANSLATED FROM CAMOENS. Just like love is yonder Eose :— Heavenly fragrance round it throws, Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose. And in the midst of briers it blows ; Just like love. Culled to bloom upon the breast, Since rough thorns the stem invest. They must be gathered with the rest, And with it to the heart be prest; Just like love. And when rude hands the twin buds sever. They die, and they shall blossom never ; Yet the thorns be sharp as ever ; Just like love. THE LEGACY OF THE ROSES. MISS L. E. LANDON. On ! plant them above me, the soft and bright. The touched with the sunset’s crimson light, ROSE. 107 The warm with the earliest breatli of Spring, The sweet with the sweep of the west wind’s wing ; Let the green bough and the red leaf wave,— Plant the glad rose-tree upon my grave. Why should the mournful willow weep, O’er the quiet rest of the dreamless sleep ? Weep for life with its toil and care, Its crime to shun, and its sorrows to bear ; Let tears, and the signs of tears be shed Over the living, not over the dead. Plant not the cypress, nor yet the yew, Too heavy their shadow, too gloomy their hue. For one who is sleeping in faith and love, With a hope that is treasured in heaven above ; In a holy trust are my ashes laid, Cast ye no darkness, throw ye no shade. Plant the green sod with the crimson rose. Let my friends rejoice o’er my calm repose ; Let my memory be like the odors shed, My hope like the promise of early red ; Let strangers share in their breath and bloom. Plant ye the bright roses over my tomb. GATHER YE ROSE-BUDS. HERRICK. Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. 108 FLORAL POEST. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting ; The sooner will his race be run, The nearer lie’s a-setting. That age is best, that is the first. When youth and blood are warmer ; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time ; And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime. You may forever tarry. SENSITIVE PLANT. (Bashful Love.) r | ^HIS delicate emblem of bashfulness is a member A- of the Mimosa family. In India it becomes a tall tree. The old pastoral poet, W. Browne, alludes to its pe¬ culiarities thus : “ Look how the feeling-plant, which learned swains Relate to grow on the East Indian plains, Shrinks up his dainty leaves if any sand You throw thereon, or touch it with your hand.” Matthew Prior alludes to the diversity of opinion as to what causes this phenomenon : SENSITIVE PLANT. 109 “ Whence does it happen that the plant, which well We name the ‘sensitive,’ should move and feel ? Whence know her leaves to answer her command, And with quick horror fly the neighboring hand ? ” There is one most remarkable member of this extra¬ ordinary family, known as the “ friendly-tree,” which droops its branches whenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who sought retreat beneath its sheltering boughs. Moore calls it “ That courteous tree, Which bows to all who seek its canopj.” THE MIMOSA. DAKWIN. Weak, with nice sense, the chaste mimosa stands; From each rude touch withdraws her timid hands. Oft, as light clouds pass o’er the Summer’s glade. Alarmed, she trembles at the moving shade, And feels alive through all her tender form The whispered murmurs of the gathering storm ; Shuts her sweet eyelids to approaching night, And hails with freshened charms the rosy light. 110 FLORAL FOESY. EVENING PRIMROSE. (,Silent Love.) “ Love us as emblems, night’s dewy flowers.”— Mrs. Hemans. T HE evening primrose is dedicated by Roman Cath¬ olics to St. Elizabeth, Queen of Portugal. It has not elicited so many poetical addresses as its sister of the day, yet has not been quite overlooked. Keats mused thus on “ A tuft of evening primroses, O’er which the mind may hover till it dozes ; O’er which it well might take a pleasant sleep. But that ’tis ever startled by the leap Of buds into ripe flowers.” v THE EVENING PRIMROSE. LANGnORNE. There are that love the shades of life, And shun the splendid walks of fame ; There are that hold it rueful strife To risk Ambition’s losing game ; That far from envy’s lurid eye The fairest fruits of genius rear, Content to see them bloom and die In friendship’s small but kindly sphere. EVENING PRIMROSE. 113 Than vainer flowers, though sweeter far. The Evening Primrose shuns the day ; Blooms only to the western star, And love its solitary ray. In Eden’s vale an aged hind At the dim twilight’s closing hour, On his time-smoothed staff reclined, With wonder viewed the opening flower* “ Ill-fated flower, at eve to blow,” (In pity’s simple thought he cries,) “ Thy bosom must not feel the glow Of splendid suns, or smiling skies. “ Nor thee the vagrants of the field, The hamlet’s little train behold , Their eyes to sweet oppression yield, When thine the falling shades unfold. “ Nor thee the hasty shepherd heeds, When love has filled his heart with cares : For flowers he rifles all the meads ; For waking flowers—but thine forbears. “ Ah ! waste no more that beauteous bloom, On night’s chill shade that fragrant breath ; Let smiling suns those gems illume ! Fair flower 1 to live unseen is death ! ” Soft as the voice of vernal gales That o’er the bending meadows blow, Or streams that steal through even vales, And murmur that they move so slow. 112 FLORAL POESY. Deep in her uufrequented bower, Sweet Philomela poured her strain ; The bird of eve approved her flower, And answered thus the anxious swain :— “Live unseen ! By moonlight shades, in valleys green, Lovely flower, we’ll live unseen. Of our pleasures deem not lightly, Laughing day may look more sprightly ; But I love the modest mien. Still I love the modest mien Of gentle evening fair, and her star-trained queen, “ Didst thou, shepherd, never find Pleasure is of pensive kind ? Has thy cottage never known That she loves to dwell alone ? Dost thou not at evening hour Feel some soft and secret power Gliding o’er thy yielding mind. Leave sweet serenity behind, While, all disarmed, the cares of day Steal through the falling gloom away ; Love to think thy lot was laid In this undistinguished shade ; Far from the world’s infectious view Thy little virtues safely blew ? Go, and in day’s more dangerous hour, Guard thy emblematic flower.” HELIOTROPE. 113 THE HELIOTROPE. {Devoted Attachment.) n~^HE Heliotrope divides with the Sunflower the -L fable of representing Clytie, who died of love for the sun, the course of which its flowers are supposed to follow. This is Ovid's* relation of her fate : “ She with distracted passion pines away; Detesteth company ; ail night, all day Disrobed, with her ruffled hair unbound, And wet with humor, sits upon the ground : For nine long days all sustenance forbears ; Her hunger cloyed with dew, her thirst with tears : Nor rose ; but rivets on the god her eyes, And ever turns her face to him that flies. At length to earth her stupid body cleaves ; Her wan complexion turns to bloodless leaves. Yet streaked with red, her perished limbs beget A flower resembling the pale violet, Which with the sun, though rooted fast, doth move, And being changed, ehangeth not her love.” THE HELIOTROPE. ANON. There is a flower whose modest eye Ts turned with looks of light and love, Who breathes her sweetest, softest sigh, Whene’er the sun is bright above. * Sandys’s translation. 114 FLORAL POESY. Let clouds obscure, or darkness veil. Her fond idolatry is fled ; Her sighs no more their sweets exhale. The loving eye is cold and dead. Canst thou not trace a moral here, False flatterer of the prosperous hour ? Let but an adverse cloud appear. And thou art faithless as the flower. HELIOTROPE. She, enamored of the sun, At his departure hangs her head and weeps, And shrouds her sweetness up, and keeps Sad vigils like a cloistered nun. Till his reviving ray appears, Waking her beauty as he dries her tears. SWEETBRIAR. (/ Wound to Heal.) W E cannot undertake to explain why this singular meaning has been given to Sweetbriar. It is called by the older poets “ Eglantine a name sometimes erroneously given to the Honeysuckle. The strong perfume of Sweetbriar in a bouquet kills the other flowers which form it. SWEETBRIAR. 115 TO THE SWEETBRIAR. BRAIN ARD. Our sweet autumnal western-scented wind Robs of its odors none so sweet a flower, In all the blooming waste it left behind. As that sweetbriar yields it; and the shower Wets not a rose that buds in beauty’s bower One half so lovely ; yet it grows along The poor girl's pathway ; by the poor man’s door. Such are the simple folks it dwells among; And humble as the bud, so humble be the song. I love it, for it takes its untouched stand Not in the vase that sculptors decorate ; Its sweetness all is of my native land ; And e’en its fragrant leaf has not its mate Among the perfumes which the rich and great Bring from the odors of the spicy East. You love your flowers and plants, and will you hate The little four-leaved rose that I love best, That freshest will awake, and sweetest go to rest ? 116 FLORAL POESY. LADY FERN. ( Fascination .) LADY FERN. CALDER CAMPBELL. I F you would see the lady fern In all her graceful power, Go look for her where woodlarks learn Love-songs in a summer bower ; Where not far off, nor yet close by, A merry stream trips on, Just near enow for an old man’s eye To watch the waters run, And leap o’er many a cluster white Of crowfoots o’er them spread ; While hart’s tongues quiet with a green more bright Where the brackens make their bed. Ferns all—and lovely all—yet each Yielding in charms to her Whose natural graces Art might teach High lessons to confer. Go look for the pimpernel by day. For Selene’s flowers by night, For the first loves to bask in the sunny ray, And the last woos the moon’s soft light: But day or night the lady fern May catch and charm your eye, When the sun to gold her emerald turns, Or the moon lends her silver dye. LADY FERN\ 117 But seek her not in early May, For a Sibyl then she looks, With wrinkled fronds that seem to say, “Shut up my wizard books ! ” Then search for her in the summer woods, Where rills keep moist the ground, Where foxgloves from their spotted hoods Shake pilfering insects round ; Where up and clambering all about. The traveller’s joy flings forth Its snowy awns, that in and out Like feathers strew the earth. Fair are the tufts of meadow sweet That haply blossom nigh. Fair are the whorls of violet Prunella shows hard by ; But not by burn, in wood, or dale, Grows anything so fair As the plumy crest of emerald pale That waves in the wind, or soughs in the gale, Of the Lady fern, when the sunbeams turn To gold her delicate hair. WALTER SCOTT. Where the copse-wood is the greenest, Where the fountain glistens sheenest, Where the morning dew lies longest, There the lady fern grows strongest. 118 FLORAL POESY. MYRTLE. HE Myrtle, like the rose, is generally considered _L symbolic of love, and by the Greeks and Romans was consecrated to Venus, round whose temples they planted groves of it; and, when the votaries of this goddess sacrificed to her, they, like her attendant Graces, wore myrtle chaplets. The Myrtle is supposed to'derive its name from Myr- sine, an Athenian maiden, and favorite of Minerva, said to have been metamorphosed into the myrtle ; at any rate, it owes its origin to a Greek word signifying perfume. Among the ancient writers who speak of its symbol¬ ism is Plmy : he records that the Romans and Sabines, when they were reconciled, laid down their weapons under a myrtle-tree, and purified themselves with its boughs. When Harmodius and Aristogiton set forth to free their country from a tyrant, their swords were wreathed with myrtle. A MYRTLE. KEATS. A myrtle, fairer than E’er grew in Paphos, from the bitter weeds Lifts its sweet head into the air, and feeds JASMINE. 11& A silent space with ever-sprouting green. All tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen, Creep through the shade with noisy fluttering, ^Nibble the little cupped flowers, and sing. THEIR. GROVES O’ SWEET MYRTLE. BURNS. Their groves o 5 sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon. When bright beaming summers exalt the perfume ; Far dearer to me yon lone glen or green bracken, Wi the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. Far dearer to me all yon humble brown bowers, Where the bluebell and gowan lurk lowly unseen; For there lightly tripping«amang the wild flowers, A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean, \ JASMINE. {Amiability.) nV/T ANY significations are attached to this exquisitely -n'-L scented flower, but the most reliable works adopt it as the representative of amiability. 120 \ FLORAL POESY. THE JASMINE. COWPER. The jasmine throwing wide her elegant sweets, The deep dark green of whose unvarnished leaf Makes more conspicuous and illumines more The bright profusion of her scattered stars. TO A JASMINE TREE GROWING IN THE COURT OF NAWORTH CASTLE. LORD MORPETH. My slight and slender jasmine-tree. That bloomest on my Border-tower, Thou art more dearly loved by me Than all the wealth of fairy bower. I ask not, while I near thee dwell; Arabia’s spice or Syria’s rose ; Thy bright festoons more freshly smell. Thy virgin white more freshly glows. My wild and winsome jasmine-tree, That climbest up the dark gray wall. Thy tiny flowerets seem in glee, Like silver spray-drops down to fall : Say, did they from their leaves thus peep, When mailed moss-troopers rode the hill ? When helmed wardens paced the keep, And bugles blew for Belted Will ? JASMINE. 121 My free and feathery jasmine-tree, Within the fragrance of thy breath, Yon dungeon grated to its key, And the chained captive pined for death,, On Border fray, on feudal crime, I dream not while I gaze on thee ; The chieftains of that stern old time Could ne’er have loved a jasmine-tree. JASMINE. MOORE. The image of Love that nightly flies To visit the bashful maid, Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs Its soul like her in the shade. The dream of a future happier hour That alights on misery’s brow, Springs out of the silvery almond flower That blooms on a leafless bough. \ NIGHT SCENTING JASMINE. MOORE. Many a perfume breathed From plants that wake when others sleep; From timid jasmine-buds that keep Their odor to themselves all day, But when the sunlight dies away Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about. 6 122 FLORAL POESY. PERFUME OF JASMINE. # CHURCHILL. The jasmine, with which the queen of flowers, To charm her god, adorns his favorite bowers ; Which brides, by the plain hand of neatness drest, Unenvied rival !—wear upon the breast ; Sweet as the incense of the morn, and chaste As the pure zone which circles Dian’s waist. ON THE INDIAN-JASMINE FLOWER. RYAN. How lovelily the jasmine flower Blooms far from man’s observing eyes : And having lived its little hour, There withers,—there sequestered dies ! Though faded, yet ’tis not forgot; A rich perfume time cannot sever Lingers in that unfriended spot, And decks the jasmine’s grave forever. Thus, thus should man who seeks to soar On learning’s wings to fame’s bright sky, Far from his fellows seek that lore, Unheeded live, sequestered die. Thus, like the jasmine, when he’s fled, Fame’s rich perfume will ever keep, Lingering around the faded dead, As saints that watch some infant’s sleep. JASMINE. 123 THE JASMINE. MOORE. ’Twas midnight — through the lattice wreathed With woodbine, many a perfume breathed From plants that wake when others sleep ; From timid Jasmine buds that keep Their odor to themselves all day; But when the sunlight dies away, Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about. TO THE JESSAMINE. MISS JANE TAYLOR. Sweet jessamine, long may thy elegant flower Breathe fragrance and solace for me : And long thy green sprigs overshadow the bower Devoted to friendship and thee. The eye that was dazzled where lilies and roses Their brilliant assemblage displayed, With grateful delight on thy verdure reposes, A tranquil and delicate shade. But ah ! what dejection that foliage expresses Which pensively droops on her breast ! The dew of the evening has laden her tresses, And stands like a tear on her crest. 124 FLORAL POESY. I’ll watch by thy side through the gloom of the night Impatient till morning appears : No charm can awaken this heart to delight. My jasmine, while thou art in tears. But soon will the shadows of night be withdrawn, Which ever in mercy are given ; And thou shalt be cheered bv the light of the morn, And fanned by the breezes of heaven. And still may thy tranquil and delicate shade Yield fragrance and solace to me ; For though all the flowers in my garden should fade. My heart will repose upon thee. >♦< POPPY. ( Consolation — Oblivion .) T HE Poppy, Greek mythologists tell us, was created by Ceres whilst in search of her daughter Proser¬ pine, as a soother of her grief. The pastoral poet, William Browne, in his quaint phraseology, says : “Sleep-bringing poppy, by the plowman late, Not without cause, to Ceres consecrate : For being round and full at his half-birth, It signified the perfect orb of earth ; And by his inequalities when blowne, The earth’s low vales and higher hills were showne ; By multitude of grains it held within, Of men and beasts the number noted bin. POPPY. 125 Or since her daughter that she loved so well, By him that in the infernal shades does dwell, ***** Fairest Proserpina was rapt away, And she in plaints the night, in tears the day, Had long time spent ; when no high power could give her Any redresse, the poppy did relieve her : For, eating of the seeds, they sleep procured, And so beguiled those griefs she long endured. THROUGH THE FIELDS. WILLIAM SAWYEK. Pleasant beneath this burning sky of June, To tread the field-paths by these hedges gay, With shining gorse and rosy-blossomed May, To linger here, where in full blaze of noon, Under the quivering branches of the trees, The air is cool and fragrant, and the light Comes greenly tempered to the aching sight; Or to pass hence, and plunging to the knees In a green meadow, wade to the full sea Of flowering grasses, foaming as we go With clustering daisies. Nought more sweet may bo, The while the skylight soars and sings, and lo ! The cuckoo, lone Narcissus of the woods, Of his own name enamored, still that name intrudes. 126 FLORAL POESY. ORANGE-BLOSSOM. (Your purity equals your loveliness.) O RANGE-BLOSSOM is generally deemed typical of chastity. The practice of brides wearing a wreath of it on their wedding-day, though still retained in some countries, is not so fashionable here as formerly. In his “Ode to Memory,” Tennyson alludes to the custom of using these blossoms at nuptials thus : “ Like a bird of old In triumph led, With music and sweet showers Of festal flowers, Unto the dwelling she must sway.” THE ORANGE-BLOSSOM. Just then, beneath some orange-trees. Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze Were wantoning together, free, Like age at play with infancy. THE ORANGE-TREE. SPENSER. Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree. With branches broad dispread and body great, Clothed with leaves, that none the wood might see, And laden all with fruit, as thick as thick might be. ORANGE-BLOSSOM. 127 The fruit were golden apples glistering bright, That goodly was their glory to behold ; On earth no better grew, nor living wight E’er better saw, but they from hence* were sold, For those which Hercules, with conquest bold, Got from great Atlas’ daughters, hence began, And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold, And those with which th’ Euboean young man wan [won] Swift Atalanta, when, through craft, he her outran. Here also sprang that goodly golden fruit With which Acontius got his lover true. Whom he had long time sought with fruitless suit; Here eke that famous golden apple grew, The which among the gods false Ate threw. For which the Idsean ladies disagreed, Till partial Paris deemed it Venus’ due, And had [of her] fair Helen for his meed, That many noble Greeks and Trojans made to bleed. \ TO THE HUMMING BIRD. CHARLOTTE SMITH. There, lovely bee-bird ! mayst thou rove Through spicy vale and citron grove. And woo and win thy fluttering love With plume so bright; * The garden of Proserpina. 128 FLORAL POESY. There rapid fly, more heard than seen, ’Mid orange-boughs of polished green. With glowing fruit, and flowers between Of purest white. THE ORANGE-BOUGH. MRS. REMANS. Oh ! bring me one sweet orange-bough, To fan my cheek, to cool my brow ; One bough, with pearly blossoms dressed, And bind it, mother ! on my breast ! Go seek the grove along the shore, Whose odors I must breathe no more. The grove where every scented tree Thrills to the deep voice of the sea. Oh ! Love's fond sighs, and fervent prayer, And wild farewell, are lingering there, Each leaf’s light whisper hath a tone, My faint heart, even in death, would own. Then bear me thence one bough, to shed Life’s parting sweetness round my head. And bind it, mother! on my breast When I am laid in lonely rest. ANEMONE. 129 ANEMONE. (Withered Hopes — Forsaken.) HIS flower derives its name from anemos, the Greek -L word for wind, from thence came our poetical ap¬ pellation of “the wind-flower."’ The ancients tell us that the Anemone was formerly a nymph beloved by Zephyr, and that Flora, jealous of her beauty, banished her from her Court, and finally transformed her into the flower that now bears her name. The more common myth is, that the anemone sprang from the blood of Adonis, combined with the tears which Venus shed over his body. The Greek poet Bion, in his “ La¬ ment for Adonis,” says : “ That wretched queen, Adonis bewailing, For every drop of blood lets fall a tear ; Two blooming flowers the mingled streams disclose ; Anemone the tears ; the blood, a rose.” TO THE ANEMONE. MISS PRATT. Flowers of the wild wood ! your home is there, ’Mid all that is fragrant, all that is fair ; Where the wood-mouse makes his home in the earth ; Where gnat and butterfly have their birth ; Where leaves are dancing over each flower. Fanning it well in the noontide hour, And the breath of the wind is murmuring low. As branches are bending to and fro. mCw. 130 FLORAL TOEST. Sweet are the memories that ye bring Of the pleasant leafy woods of spring ; Of the wild bee, so gladly humming, Joyous that earth’s young flowers are coming ; Of the nightingale and merry thrush, Cheerfully singing from every bush ; And the cuckoo’s note, when the air is still, Heard far away on the distant hill. * ■* * * * * * Pure are the sights and sounds of the wild Ye can bring to the heart of Nature’s child ; Plain and beautiful is the story That ye tell of your Maker’s glory ; Useful the lesson that ye bear, That fragile is all, however fair ; While ye teach that time is on his wing, As ye open the blossoms of every spring. THE RED ANEMONE. TENNYSON. Growths of jasmine turned Their humid arms, festooning tree and tree, And at the root through lush green grasses burned The red anemone. ASPHODEL—HONEYSUCKLE. 131 ASPHODEL. (I will he faithful unto Death.) 'icated to the memory of de- asphodel is still very common in Greece ; it was planted around the tombs of the deceased ; and it was believed that beyond the fatal river Acheron, the shades wandered in a vast field of asphodels, and drank forgetfulness from Lethe’s waters of oblivion. The flowers of the asphodel produce grains with which it was thought that the dead were nour¬ ished. Orpheus, in Pope’s “ Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day,” conjures the infernal deities : “ By the streams that ever flow, By the fragrant winds that blow O’er the Elysian flowers ; By those happy souls who dwell In yellow meads of asphodel Or amaranthine bowers.” We have as old an authority as Homer for stating that, after having crossed the Styx, the shades passed over a long plain of asphodels. Hence the meaning at¬ tached to the flower. HONEYSUCKLE. ( Generous , devoted Affection.) T HIS exquisite flower has something so homelike and English about it that we marvel it has not met with more poetical appreciation. All the glories 132 FLORAL POESY. of East and West cannot rival its blossoms in our esti¬ mation. Often in Eastern lands have we longed for the honeysuckle lanes of England. It grows (for the benefit of the wayfarer) in the hedgerow : it clasps the porch and thatch of the poor man's cottage : it wafts soothing perfume to the lover. THE HONEYSUCKLE. THE COUNTESS OP BLESSINGTON. See the Honeysuckle twine Eound this casement :—’tis a shrine Where the heart doth incense give. And the poor affections live In the mother’s gentle breast By her smiling infant pressed. Blessed shrine ! dear, blissful home ! Source whence happiness doth come ! Bound by the cheerful hearth we meet All things beauteous—all things sweet— Every solace of man’s life, Mother—daughter—sister—wife ! England, Isle of free and brave, Circled by the Atlantic wave ! Though we seek the fairest land That the south wind ever fanned. Yet we cannot hope to see Homes so holy as in thee. HONEYSUCKLE. 133 As the tortoise turns its head Towards its native ocean-bed, Howsoever far it be From its own beloved sea, Tims, dear Albion, evermore Do we turn, to seek thy shore ! FRAGMENT. SIR WALTER SCOTT. And well the lonely infant knew Recesses where the wallflower grew, And honeysuckle loved to crawl Up the low crag and ruined wall. I deemed such nooks the sweetest shade The sun in all his round surveyed, And still I thought that shattered tower The mightiest work of human power. WOODBINE. SHAKSPEARE. I know a hank whereon the wild thyme blows. Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine : There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight: And there the snake throws her enameled skin. Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in. 134 floral poesy. THE QUESTION. SHELLEY. I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way. Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring, And gentle odors led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth. The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips ; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved ; and that tall flower that wets Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears. When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine. Green cowbind and the moonlight-colored May, And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day ; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, M ith its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray, And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold ; Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. And nearer to the river’s trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright. HONEYSUCKLE. 135 Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the hours Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it !—oh ! to whom ? FROM THE “RAPE OF PROSERPINE.” BARRY CORNWALL. Here this rose (This one half-blown) shall be my Maia’s portion For that like it her blush is beautiful ; And this deep violet, almost as blue As Pallas’ eye, or thine Lycinnia, I'll give to thee ; for like thyself it wears Its sweetness, ne’er obtruding. For this lily, Where can it hang but at Cyane’s breast ?. And yet ’twill wither on so white a bed, If flowers have sense, for envy :—It shall lie Amongst thy raven tresses, Cytheris, Like one star on the bosom of the night. The cowslip, and the yellow primrose, they Are gone, my sad Lcontia, to their graves, And April hath w 7 ept o’er them, and the voice 136 FLORAL POFSY. Of March hath sung, even before their deaths, The dirge of those young children of the year. But here is heart’s-ease for your woes. And now. The honeysuckle flower I give to thee, And love it for my sake, my own Oyane : It hangs upon the stem it loves, as thou Hast clung to me, through every joy and sorrow ; It flourishes with its guardian’s growth, as thou dost And if the woodman’s axe should drop the tree, The woodbine too must perish. WREATHS. Weave thee a wreath of woodbine, uhild, ’Twill suit thy infant brow ; It runs up free in the woodlands wild. As tender and as frail as thou. He bound his brow with a woodbine wreath. And smiled his playful eye, And he lightly skipped o’er the blossomed heath, In his young heart’s ecstasy. I saw him not till his manly brow Was clouded with thought and care. And the smile of youth, and its beauty, now No longer wantoned there. Go, twine thee a crown of the ivy tree. And gladden thy loaded breast : Bright days may yet shine out for thee. And thy bosom again know rest. HONEYSUCKLE. Long years rolled on,—and I saw again His form in hoary age ; His forehead was deeply furrowed then. In life’s last feeble stage. 0 be thy crown, old man, I said, Of the yew and the cypress made, A garland meet for thy silvered head Ere it low in the tomb be laid. And such is life, and such is man In his fleeting course below : His little day, that in joy began, Must proceed and end in woe ; But another day shall weave for him A garland that will not die, And his cup of bliss shall o’erflow its brim He shall live eternally. HONEYSUCKLES. KEATS. Dew-sweet eglantine, And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine. 138 FLOKAL POESY. CELANDINE; OR, SWALLOW HERB. {Deceptive Hopes.) r INIIS emblem of deceptive hopes derives its botanical -L name from a Greek word signifying a swallow, because, say some, of its coming and going with that bird ; but according to Gerarde, it was so called from an opinion which prevailed among the country people, that the old swallows used it to restore sight to their young when their eyes were out. TO THE SMALL CELANDINE. (common pile wort.) WORDSWORTH. Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises ; Long as there’s a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory ; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story ; There’s a flower that shall be mine, ’Tis the little Celandine. Eyes of some men travel far For the finding of a star ; CELANDINE. 139 Up and down the heavens they go. Men that keep a mighty rout; I’m as great as they, I trow, Since the day I found thee out. Little flower—I’ll make a stir Like a sage astronomer. Modest, yet withal an elf, Bold, and lavish of thyself ; Since we needs must first have met I have seen thee, high and low. Thirty years or more and yet, ’Twas a face I did not know ; Thou hast now, go where I may. Fifty greetings in a day. Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush Has a thought about her nest, Thou wilt ccme with half a call, Spreading out thy glossy breast Like a careless Prodigal ; Telling tales about the sun When we’ve little warmth or none. Poets, vain men in their mood. Travel with the multitude : Never heed them : I aver That they all are wanton wooers; But the thrifty cottager, Who stirs little out of doors, Joys to spy thee near her home : Spring is coming ; thou art come ; 140 FLORAL POESY. Comfort have thou of thy merit, Kindly unassuming spirit ! Careless of thy neighborhood, Thou dost show thy pleasant face On the moor, and in the wood, In the lane ; there’s not a place Howsoever mean it be, But ’tis good enough for thee. Ill befall the yellow flowers, Children of the flaring hours ! Buttercups that will be seen, Whether we will see or no; Others, too, of lofty mien, They have done as worldlings do, Taken praise that should be thine. Little, humble Celandine. Prophet of delight and mirth. Ill reputed upon earth ; Herald of a mighty band, Of a joyous train ensuing, Serving at my heart’s command, Tasks that are no tasks renewing, I will sing, as dof?h behove, Hymns in praise of what I love ! WEEPING WILLOW. 141 WEEPING WILLOW. {Mourning.) T HIS tree has ever been regarded as the symbol of sorrow, and most appropriately, for not only do its pensive-looking branches droop mournfully towards the ground, but even very frequently little drops of water are to be seen standing, like tears, upon the pen¬ dent leaves. In its native East it is often planted over graves, and with its sorrowful, afflicted look, forms a most appropriate guardian of the departed ones rest. “ The famous and admired weeping willow,” says Martyn, “ planted by Pope, which has since been felled to the ground, came from Spain, inclosing a present for Lady Suffolk. Pope was present when the covering was taken off; lie observed that the pieces of stick appeared as if they had some vegetation, and added, ‘Perhaps they may produce something we have not in England. Under this idea, he planted it in his garden, and it pro¬ duced the willow-tree that has given birth to so many others.” THE WILLOW. BYRON. We sat down and wept by the waters Of Babel, and thought of the day, When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters. Made Salem’s high places his prey ; And ye, 0 her desolate daughters ! Were scattered all weeping away. 142 FLORAL POESY. While sadly we gazed on the river. Which rolled on in freedom below, He demanded the song ; but, oh, never That triumph the stranger shall know ! May this right hand he withered forever Ere it string our high harp for the foe ! On the willows that harp is suspended, 0 Salem ! Its sound should be free : And the hour when thy glories were ended But left me that token of thee ; And ne’er shall its soft note be blended With the voice of the spoiler by me. WEARING THE WILLOW. tercy’s reliques. Willy —How now, shepherde, what meanes that ? Why that willowe in thy hat ? Why thy scarffes of red and yellowe Turned to branches of green willowe ? Cuddy —They are changed, and so am I ; Sorrowes live, but pleasures die : Phillis hath forsaken mee, Which makes me weare the willowe-tr Willy — Shepherde, be advised by mee, Cast off grief and willowe-tree ; For thy grief brings her content: She is pleased if thou lament. WEEPING WILLOW. 143 Cuddy —Herdsman, I’ll be ruled by thee,— There liees grief and willowe-tree; Henceforth I will do as they, And love a new love every day. THE WILLOW. SHAKSPEARE. My mother had a maid called Barbara : She was in love ; but he she loved proved mad, And did forsake her. She had a song of “ Willow.” An old thing ’twas, but it expressed her fortune, And she died singing it. THE WILLOW. SHAKSPEARE. There is a willow grows aslant the brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she * come, Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples. That liberal shepherds give a grosser name. But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them ; There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. * Ophelia. 144 FLORAL POESY. TO A WILLOW-TREE. HERRICK. Thou art to all lost love the best, The only true plant found ; Wherewith young men and maids distrest, And left of love, are crowned. When once the lover’s rose is dead, Or laid aside forlorn, Then willow garlands ’bout the head. Bedewed with tears, are worn. When with neglect the lover’s bane, Poor maids rewarded be ; For their love lost, their only gain Is but a wreath from thee. And underneath thy cooling shade. When weary of the light, The love-spent youth and love-sick maid Come to weep out the night. THE GARLAND. MOORE. A willow garland thou didst send. Perfumed, last day, to me ; Which did but only this portend : I was forsook by thee. WEEPING WILLOW. 145 Since so it is, I’ll tell thee what: To-morrow thou shalt see Me wear the willow ; after that To die upon the tree. As beasts unto the altar go With garlands dressed, so I Will with my willow wreath also Come forth and sweetly die. SOM NET. GARCILASSO. For Daphne’s laurel Phoebus gave his voice : The towering poplar charmed stern Hercules ; The myrtle sweet, whose gifted flowers rejoice Young hearts in love, did most warm Venus please; The little green willow is my Fledri’s choice : She gathers it amidst a thousand trees. Thus laurel, poplar, and sweet myrtle now. Where’er it grows, shall to the willow bow. THE DROOPING WILLOW. L. E. L. Green willow ! over whom the perilous blast Is sweeping roughly, thou dost seem to me The patient emblem of humility, Waiting in meekness till the storm be passed, Assured an hour of peace will come at last;— That there will be for thee a calm bright day When the dark cl ends are gathered far away. 7 uo FLORAL POESY. How canst thou ever sorrow’s emblems be ? Rather I deem thy slight and fragile form. In mild endurance bending gracefully, Is like the wounded heart, which ’mid the storm Looks for the promised time which is to be, In pious confidence. Oh ! thou shouldst wave Thy branches o’er the lowly martyr’s grave. SUNFLOWER. {Fidelity.) IIE classic legend of Clytie has been attached to the sunflower. That nymph had been beloved by He¬ lios, but it was not long before he transferred his affec¬ tions to Leucothoe, daughter of King Orchamus. When Clytie found herself unable to regain her lover, she in¬ formed the Persian monarch of his daughter’s love affair, and he had the unfortunate girl entombed alive. He¬ lios, enraged at the terrible tragedy, entirely forsook the nymph whose jealousy had caused it; and she, over¬ whelmed with grief, lay prone upon the earth for nine days and nights without any sustenance, her eyes con¬ tinually following the course of her adored sun through the heavens. At last the gods, less pitiless than her former admirer, transformed her into a sunflower, and as Ovid says: “Still the loved object the fond leaves pursue. Still move their root, the moving sun to view.” Robert Browning thus alludes to the story of Rudel, SUNTLG TER. 147 the ancient French poet who adopted this splendid blossom as his emblem : “ I know a mount, the gracious sun perceives First when he visits, last too, when he leaves The world ; and, vainly favored, it repays The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze By no change of its large calm front of snow. And underneath the mount a flower, I know. He cannot have perceived, that changes ever At his approach ; and, in the lost endeavor To live his life, has parted, one by one, With all a flower’s true graces, for the grace Of being but a foolish mimic sun, With ray-like florets round a disk-like face. Men nobly call by many a name the mount, As over many a land of theirs its large Calm front of snow, like a triumphal targe, Is reared ; and still with old names fresh ones vie, Each to its proper praise and own account. Men call the flower the sunflower, sportively.” THE SUNFLOWER. THOMSON. The loft follower of the sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, Drooping all night, and, when he warm returns. Points her enamored bosom to his ray. TO THE SUNFLOWER. Pride of the garden, the beauteous, the regal, The crowned with a diadem burning in gold ; Sultan of flowers, as the strong-pinioned eagle, And lord of the forest their wide empire hold. 148 FLORAL POESY. Let the Rose boast her fragrance, the soft gales per¬ fuming, . The tulip unfold all her fair hues to me : Yet though sweet be their perfume, their rainbow dyes blooming, I turn, noble Sunflower, with more love to thee. There are some think thy stateliness haughty, disdain¬ ing*— Thy heaven-seeking gaze has no charm for their eyes. ’Tis because the pure spirit within thee that’s reigning Exalts thee above the vain pleasures they prize. Emblem of Constancy, whilst he is beaming, For whom is thy passion so steadfast, so true ; May we, who of faith and of love are aye dreaming, Be taught to remember this lesson by you ! If on earth, like the Sunflower, our soul’s best devotion Shall turn to the source of Truth’s far-beaming rays : Oh ! how blest, how triumphant, shall be our emotion, When the bright ‘‘Sun of Righteousness” bursts on our gaze. THE SUNFLOWER. L. E. LANDON. Look upon this flower ! It is the symbol of unhappy love ; ’Tis sacred to the slighted Clytie. See how it turns its bosom to the sun, And when dark clouds conceal it, or when night SUNFLOWER. 149 Is on the sky, mark how it folds its leaves, And droops its head, and weeps sweet tears of dew,_ The constant sunflower. THE SUNFLOWER. HOOD. I will not have the mad Clytie, Whose head’s turned by the sun; The tulip is a courtly queen, Whom therefore I will shun ; The cowslip is a country wench. The violet is a nun ;— But I will woo the dainty rose, The queen of every one. SUNFLOWER. SHELLEY. Light-enchanted sunflower ! Thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun’s revolving splendor, Follow not his faithless glance With thy faded countenance ; Nor teach my beating heart to fear, If leaves can mourn without a tear, How eyes must weep. 160 FLORAL POEST. CONSTANCY. MOORE. Oh ! the heart that once truly loves never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close ; As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look that she turned when he rose. REAL FAITH. Beal faith is like the sun’s fair flower, Which ’midst the clouds that shroud it, and the winds That wave it to and fro, and all the change Of air, and earth, and sky, doth rear its head, And looketh up, stdl steadfast, to its God. LAUREL. BAY. (Glory.) (Fame.) “We crown with the laurel wreath The hero-god, the soldier chief.”—E liza Cook. 41 Sweet bay-tree, symbol of the song that dreaming poet sings.” Ibid. “ The victor’s garland, and the poet’s crown.”—W. Browne. T HE sweet bay was deemed by both Greeks and Homans emblematic of Victory and Clemency. The glories of all grand deeds were signalized by means . / / LAUREL. BAT. 151 of laurel crowns; its leaves were deemed very effica¬ cious in the prevention of illness, and its shelter was believed to ward off lightning. This presumed power is alluded to in the device of the Count do Dunois, which Madame de Genlis men¬ tions as being a bay-tree, with the motto, “I defend the earth that bears me ; ’ and Leigh Hunt, in his “Descent of Liberty,’’ thus adverts to the belief : “Long have you my laurels worn, And though some under-leaves be torn Here and there, yet what remains Still its pointed green retains, And still an easy shade supplies To your calm-kept watchful eyes. Only, would you keep it brightening, And its power to shake the lightning Harmless down its glossy ears, Suffer not so many years • To try what they can bend and spoil.’* The laurel bears the classic appellation of Daphne, because of the ancient legend connecting it with the nymph of that name, who, according to Ovid, was daughter of the river-god Peneus. Apollo beheld her, and at once became enamored of her beauty; but Daphne fled from his importunities, and, fearful of being caught, called to Diana for assistance: she answered her prayers by transforming her into the laurel. Apollo, finding that he held nothing but a hard tiee in his embrace, saluted its vivid green leaves with kisses, crowned his head with its leaves, and ordained that ever after that tree should be sacred to his god¬ head. Ovid thus recounts this fact: “ I espouse thee for my tree : Be thou the prize of hor.or and renown ; The deathless poet and the poem crown. 152 FLORAL POESY. Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn, And, after poets,'be by victors worn.” Spenser resents the slight shown to the god of poetry, and thus vindictively speaks of the cold nymph : “ Proud Daphne, scorning Phoebus’s lovely fire, On the Thessalian shore from him did flee; For which the gods, in their revengeful ire, Did her transform into a laurel-tree.” Chaucer bestows the laurel upon the Knights of the Round Table, the Paladins of Charlemagne, and some other heroes of antiquity, “ That in their times did right worthily. ***** For one lefe given of that noble tree To any wight that hath done worthily Is more honour than anything erthly.” THE LAUREL. \ * TASSO. » 0 glad triumphal bough, That now adornest conquering chiefs, and now Clippest the brows of overruling kings : From victory to victory Thus climbing on, through all the heights of story. From worth to fforth, and glory unto glory; To finish all, 0 gentle and royal tree, Thou reignest now upon that flourishing head, At whose triumphant eyes Love and our souls are led. „. . LAUREL. BAY. 153 THE BAY. E. COOK. Whom do we crown with the laurel-leaf? The hero-god, the soldier chief ; But we dream of the crushing cannon-wheel, Of the flying shot and the reeking steel, Of the crimson plain where warm blood smokes, Where clangor deafens and sulphur chokes ; Oh, who can love the laurel wreath, Plucked from the gory field of death ? * * * * * But there’s a green and fragrant leaf Betokens nor revelry, blood, nor grief ; ’Tis the purest amaranth springing below. And rests on the calmest, noblest brow. It is not the right of the monarch or lord. Nor purchased by gold, nor won by the sword ; For the lowliest temples gather a ray Of quenchless light from the palm of bay. 0 beautiful bay ! I worship thee— I homage thy wreath—I cherish thy tree ; And of all the chaplets Fame may deal, ’Tis only to this one I would kneel. For as Indians fly to the banian branch When tempests lower and thunders launch, So the spirit may turn from crowds and strife, And seek from the bay-wreath joy and life. 7* 154 FLORAL POESY. THE LAUREL. WORDSWORTH. ’Tis sung in ancient minstrelsy That Phoebus wont to wear The leaves of any pleasant tree Around his golden hair, Till Daphne, desperate with pursuit Of his imperious love, At her own prayer transformed, took root A laurel in the grove. Then did the penitent adorn His brow with laurel green ; And ’mid his bright locks never shorn No meaner leaf was seen ; And poets sage, in every age, About their temples wound The bay, and conquerors thanked the gods With laurel chaplets crowned. Into the mists of fabling time So far runs back the praise Of beauty, which disdains to climb Along forbidden ways; That scorns temptations, power defies. Where mutual love is not; And to the tomb for rescue flies When life would be a blot. PERIWINKLE. 155 PERIWINKLE. (Tender Recollections.) I N France the Periwinkle, which there is sometimes called “ the magician’s violet,” is considered the emblem of sincere friendship, and as such is much used in their language of flowers. The English have adopted this evergreen plant as the representative of tender recollections. In Italy, the country people make garlands of this plant, to place upon the biers of their deceased children, for which reason they name it the ‘' flower of death.” But in Germany it is the symbol of immortality; and, because its fine, glossy, myrtle-green leaves flourish all through the winter, they term it “ winter verdure.” Chaucer repeatedly speaks of it m his “ Romaunt of the Rose,” even making it one of the ornaments of the God of Love : \ “His garment was every dele Ipurtraied and wrought with floures, By divers medeling of coloures ; Floures there was of many a gise, Iset by campace in a sise ; There lacked no floure to my dome, Ne not so much as floure of brome, He violet, ne eke perevink, .We floure none that men can on think** 156 FLORAL POESY. WILD FLOWERS. ANON. Despise thou not the wild flower—small it seem, And of neglected growth, and its light bells Hang carelessly on every passing gale ; Yet it is finely wrought, and colors there Might shame the Tyrian purple, and it bears Marks of a care eternal and divine ; Duly the dews descend to give it food, The sun revives its drooping, and the showers Add to its beauty, and the airs of Heaven Are round it for delight. > ■ 4 - DAHLIA. (.Instability and Pomp.) T HE Dahlia is a native of Mexico, where Baron Humboldt found it growing in sandy meadows several hundred feet above the level of the sea. It was brought to England in 1789, but was neglected and the genus lost. It ornamented the royal gardens of the Escurial, at Madrid, for several years before Spanish jealousy would permit it to be introduced into the other countries of Europe. It derives its name from a countryman of the cele¬ brated Linnaeus, Professor Andrew Dahl, a Swedish botanist : he presented it in 1804 to Lady Holland, who was its first successful English cultivator. DAHLIA. 157 Its coarse foliage, gaudy flowers, and want of per¬ fume seem to have prevented its becoming a favorite with our poets. Mrs. Sigourney just alludes to it as a florist’s flower, in her “Farewell : ” I have no stately dahlias, nor greenhouse flowers to weep, But I passed the rich man’s garden, and the mourning there was deep, For the crownless queens all drooping hung amid the wasted sod, Like Boadicea, bent with shame beneath the Homan rod,” THE DAHLIA. MAKTIN. Though severed from its native clime, Where skies are ever bright and clear. And nature’s face is all sublime. And beauty clothes the fragrant air. The Dahlia will each glory wear, With tints as bright, and leaves as green ; And winter, in his savage mien, May breathe forth storm,—yet she will bear With all :—and in the summer ray. With blossoms deck the brow of day. And thus the soul—if fortune cast Its lot to live in scenes less bright,— Should bloom amidst the adverse blast Nor suffer sorrow’s clouds to blight Its outward beauty—inward light. Thus should she live and flourish still, Though misery’s frost might strive to kill The germ of hope within her quite :— Thus should she hold each beauty fast. And bud and blossom to the last, 158 FLORAL POESY. MARIGOLD. (Grief.) “She droops and mourns, Bedewed as ’twere with tears.” George Withers. Y old English poets these plants are called “ golds D the name of the Virgin Mary was a very frequent addition in the Middle Ages to anything useful or beautiful, and so in course of time this flower became known as the Marigold. In Provence they call it gauche fer (left-handed iron), probably from its round, brilliant disk, suggestive of a shield, which is worn on the left arm. Although by itself, however, the Marigold expresses grief, by a judicious mixture with other flowers its mean¬ ing may be greatly varied. For instance, combined with roses it is symbolic of “the bitter sweets and pleasant pains of love; ” whilst amongst Eastern na¬ tions a bouquet of marigolds and poppies signifies “I will allay your pain.” Associated with cypress, the emblem of death, marigolds betoken despair. The marigold is usually open from nine in the morn¬ ing till three in the afternoon ; this foreshows a con¬ tinuance of dry weather : should the blossom remain closed, rain may be expected. It shuts at sunset : “ The Marybudde, that shutteth with the light.” Browne, in his “ Britannia's Pastorals,” says •- “ But, maiden, see the day is waxen olde, And ’gins to snut in with the marygolde.” MARIGOLD. 159 Whilst Shakspeare says in “Cymbeline,” that when “Phoebus’ gins arise,” the “ winking marybuds begin to ope their golden eyes.” Keats pays more heed to the natural attractions of this flower and sings : “ Open afresh your round of starry fol'ds, Ye ardent marigolds ! Dry up the moisture of your golden lids. For great Apollo bids That in these days your praises shall be sung On many harps, which he has lately strung; And then again your dewiness he kisses— Tell him I have you in my world of blisses: So haply when I rove in some far vale, His mighty voice may come upon the gale.” Chaucer calls the Marigold a “ Golde,” and makes a garland of them typical of jealousy, yellow being the emblematical color of that passion. THE MARIGOLD. G. WITHERS. When with a serious musing, I behold The grateful and obsequious Marigold, How duly, every morn ng, she displays Her open breast when Phoebus spreads his rays ; How she observes him in his daily walk, Still bending towards him her small slender stalk; How, when he down declines, she droops and mourns, Bedewed as ’twere with tears, till he returns ; And how she veils her flowers when he is gone, As if she scorned to be looked upon 160 FLORAL POESY. By an inferior eye ; or did contemn To wait upon a meaner light than him : When this I meditate, methinks the flowers Have spirits far more generous than ours. And give us fair examples to despise The servile favvnings and idolatries Wherewith we court these earthly things below, Which merit not the service we bestow. But, 0 my God ! though groveling I appear Upon the ground, and have a rooting here Which hales me downward, yet in my desire To that which is above me 1 aspire, And all my best affections I profess To him that is the Sun of Righteousness. Oh ! keep the morning of his incarnation, The burning noon-tide of his bitter passion, The night of his descending, and the height Of his ascension,—ever in my sight, That imitating Him in what I may, I never follow an inferior way. THE LILY. (Majesty and Purity.) T HE Lily was sacred to Juno, and is now conse¬ crated to the Virgin Mary. It has inspired very lovely poetry. LILT. iea A BOUQUET OF LILIES. WORDSWORTH. A lily flower, The old Egyptian’s emblematic mark Of joy immortal and of pure affection. L. E. L. The water lilies, that glide so pale. As if with constant care Of the treasures which they bear; For those ivory vases hold Each a sunny gift of gold. COWLEY. The virgin lilies in their white, Clad but with the lawn of almost naked white. WATER-LILIES. E. R. B. Misty moonlight, faintly falling O’er the lake at eventide, Shows a thousand gleaming lilies On the rippling waters wide. White as snow, the circling petals Cluster round each golden star, Rising, falling with the waters, Moving, yet at rest they are. 102 FLORAL POESY. Winds may blow, and skies may darken, Lain may pour, and waves may swell ; Deep beneath the changeful eddies Lily roots are fastened well. THE CLOSING LILY. TENNYSON. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake ; So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom, and be lost in me. A DIALOGUE FROM SOUL GARDENING. DORA GREENWELL, “Thou bearest flowers within Thy hand, Thou wearest on Thy breast A flower ; now tell me which of these Thy flowers Thou lovest best; Which wilt Thou gather to Thy heart Beloved above the rest ? ” “ Should I not love my flowers, My flowers that bloom and pine, Unseen, unsought, unwatched for hours By any eye but Mine ? Should I not love my flowers ? I love my Lilies tall, My Marigold with constant eyes, Each flower that blows, each flower that dies To Me, I love them alL LILY. 163 I gather to a heavenly bower My Roses fair and sweet; I hide within my breast the flower That grows beside my feet.” UNE PENSEE. TOM HOOD. “There’s Pansies : that’s for thoughts.” —Shakspeare. Gay lilies on the virgin breast Of her who dieth young ; And o’er the warrior gone to rest Let laurel wreaths be flung ; But strew ye purple pansies when the old man’s knell is rung. Fair types those lily flowers are Of her for whom ye weep ; Whom earnest prayer and loving care Could not among us keep ; But strew ye purple pansies when the old man falls asleep ! Well fitting for the warrior dead The laurels he has won— Proof of the brave life he has led, The dangers he has run ; But strew ye purple pansies when the old man’s war is done! 164 FLORAL POESY. By all the glances backward cast Along life’s weary shore— By all the memories of the past That may return no more ; Oh, strew ye purple pansies when the old man’s life is o’er! THE WATER-LILY. J. H. REYNOLDS. In' a brook which loved to fret O’er yellow sand and pebble blue, The lily of the silvery hue All freshly dwelt, with white leaves wet. Away the sparkling water played, Through bending grass, and blessed flower ; Light and delight seemed all its dower ; Away in merriment it strayed — Singing, and bearing, hour after hour, Pale lovely splendor to the shade. THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. The Sun stepped down from his golden throne, And lay in the silent sea, And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, For a sleepy thing was she. What is the Lily dreaming of ? Why crisp the waters blue ? See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid ! Her white leaves are glistening through ! 165 LILY. The Rose is cooling his burning cheek In the hip of the breathless tide ;— The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair. That would lie by the Rose’s side ; lie would love her better than all the rest, And he would be fond and true;— But the Lily unfolded her weary lids, And looked at the sky so blue. Remember, remember, thou silly one. How fast will thy summer glide, And wilt thou wither a virgin pale. Or llourish a blooming bride ? “ Oh! the Rose is old, and thorny, and cold, And he lives on earth,” said she; “But the Star is fair, and he lives in the air. And he shall my bridegroom be.” But what if the stormy cloud should come, And ruffle the silver sea ? Would he turn his eye from the distant sky To smile on a thing like thee ? Oh! no, fair Lily, he will not send One ray from far-off throne ; The winds shall blow, and the waves shall flow, And thou wilt be left alone. There is not a leaf on the mountain top, Nor a drop of evening dew, Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore, Nor a pearl in the Avaters blue. That he has not cheered with his fickle smile. And warmed with his faithless beam,— And will he be true to a pallid flower That floats on the quiet stream ? 4— ! s FLORAL POESV^. 1G0 Alas for the Lily ! she would not heed. But turned to the skies afar, And bared her breast to the trembling ray That shot from the rising Star ; The cloud came over the darkened sky. And over the waters wide : She looked in vain through the beating rain, And sank in the stormy tide. THE WATER-LILY. J. H. REYNOLDS. 0 MELON-SCENTED lily ! 0 water-queen of flowers ! When shall I see the silver waves Dancing around thee, like sweet slaves To Beauty in its bowers ; When shall I take an earthly part In honoring thy gjolden heart ? 0 pretty rose autumnal ! 0 fairy queen of trees ! When may I have thy gentle buds Adorned with their emerald studs. In their green palaces ; When see thy vernal velvet fall Under thy ruby coronal ? The sound of forest music The water-song of streams. Are become dim and strange to me As musings of old witchery ; SWEET-WILLIAM. 1G7 But in my fitful dreams, And in my waking weary hours, Spirits come to me, as from flowers. SWEET-WILLIAM. ( Gallantry — Finesse.) rPHE Sweet-William , a member of the Pink family, -L from the charming manner in which it arranges its variegated blossoms into bouquet-shaped clusters, is well worthy of its second name of finesse. The bearded Pink, as it is sometimes designated, is known to our French neighbors as the “ poet’s eye,” because of the manner in which its petals are marked. \ SWEET-WILLIAM. COWLEY. Sweet-William small, has form and aspect bright; Like that sweet flower that yields great Jove delight. Had he majestic bulk he'd now be styled Jove’s flower ; and, if my skill is not beguiled, He was Jove’s flower when Jove was but a child. Take him with many flowers in one conferred, He’s worthy Jove, ev’n now he has a beard. 108 FLORAL POESY. THE GILLYFLOWER. DKAYTON. The curious, choice, clove July flower. Whose kinds, hight the carnation, For sweetness of most sovereign power Shall help my wreath to fashion ; Whose sundry colors of one kind, First from one root derived, Them in their several suits I’ll bind. My garland so contrived. FOXGLOVE. (Insincerity,) T HE Foxglove typifies insincerity, because of the insidious poison which lurks within its bright blossom. In France and Germany, and in some parts of England, it is known as “Finger-flower,” because of the resemblance it bears to the finger of a glove, a resemblance which the poets have not failed to take advantage of. William Brown describes Pan as seek¬ ing gloves for his mistress : “ To keep her slender fingers from the sunne, Pan through the pastures oftentimes hath runne To pluck the speckled foxgloves from their stem, And on those fingers neatly placed them. FUCHSIA, 169 THE FOXGLOVE. The foxglove-leaves, with caution given. Another proof of favoring Heaven Will happily display: The rabid pulse it can abate, The hectic flush can moderate, And, blest by Him whose will is fate, May give a lengthened day. FOXGLOVE. Upoh the sunny bank The foxglove rears its pyramid of bells, Gloriously freckled, purpled and white, the flower That cheers JDevonia’s fields. FUCHSIA. ( Taste.) ^PHE Fuchsia, a native of Chili, was named after Leonard Fuchs, a noted German botanist. As it is quite a modern addition to our gardens, there is little poetry as yet belonging to it. 8 170 FLORAL POESY. THE FUCHSIA. ANON. Beautiful child of a tropic sun, How hast thou been from thy far home won, To bloom in our chilly northern air, Where the frost may blight, or the wind may tear Dost thou not pine for thine own dear land, For its cloudless skies—for its zephyrs bland, For its graceful flowers of matchless hues, Bright as the dreams of an Eastern muse ? Dost thou not pine for the perfumed air, For the gorgeous birds that are hovering there ; For the starry skies, and the silver moon, And the grasshopper’s shrill and unchanging tune Doth thy modest head as meekly bend In thine own bright clime,—or doth exile lend To thy fragile stalk its drooping grace. Like the downcast look of a lovely face ? No ! thou would’st murmur, were language thine. It is not for these I appear to pine ; Nor for glorious flowers, nor cloudless skies. Nor yet for the plumage of rainbow dyes. The kindly care I have met with here— The dew that is soft as affection’s tear, Would have soothed, if sorrow had bent my head. And life and vigor around me shed. HEATH. 171 But I do not pine, and I do not grieve ; Why should I mourn for the things I leave ? I feel the sun and the gladsome air, And all places are joyous if they be there. And thus in the world we may happy be, Not in climate, nor valley, nor islet free ; But wherever the tenderest love in our breast May have objects around it on which it can rest. HEATH. {Solitude.) MOORLAND BLOSSOMS. ELIZA COOK. W ILD blossoms of the moorland, ye are very dear to me ; Ye lure my dreaming memory as clover does the bee ; Ye bring back all my childhood loved, when freedom, joy, and health Had never thought of wearing chains to fetter fame and wealth. Wild blossoms of the common land, brave tenants of the earth, Your breathings were among the first that helped my spirit’s birth ; 172 FLORAL POESY. For how my busy brain would dream, and how my heart would burn, Where gorse and heather flung their arms above the forest fern. % % * * * * * Who loved me then ? Oh ! those who were as gentle as sincere, Who never kissed my cheek so hard as when it owned a tear. Whom did I love ? Oh ! those whose faith I never had to doubt; Those who grew anxious at my sigh and smiled upon my pout. What did I crave ? The power to rove unquestioned at my will; Oh! wayward idler that I was !—perchance I am such still. What did I fear ? No chance or change, so that it did not turn My footstep from the moorland coast, the heather, and the fern. Methinks it was a pleasant time, those gipsy days of mine, When youth with rosy magic turned life’s waters into wine; But nearly all who shared those days have passed away from earth, Passed in their beauty and their prime, their happiness and mirth. So now, rich flowerets of the waste, I’ll sit and talk to ye, For memory’s casket, filled with gems, is opened by your key; HEATH. 173 And glad T am that I can grasp your blossoms sweet and wild, And find myself a doter yet, a dreamer, and a child. ON A SPRIG OF HEATH. MRS. GRANT. Flower of the waste ! the heath-fowl shuns For thee the brake and tangled wood,— To thy protecting shade she runs, Thy tender buds supply her food ; Her young forsake her downy plumes To rest upon thy opening blooms. Flower of the desert though thou art ! The deer that range the mountain free. The graceful doe, the stately hart, Their food or shelter seek from thee ; The bee thy earliest blossom greets, And draws from thee her choicest sweets. Gem of the heath ! whose modest bloom Sheds beauty o’er the lonely moor ; Though thou dispense no rich perfume. Nor yet with splendid tints allure, Both valor’s crest and beauty’s power Oft hast thou decked, a favorite flower. Flower of the wild ! whose purple glow Adorns the dusky mountain’s side, Not the gay hues of Iris’ bow, Nor garden’s artful, varied pride, 174 FLORAL POESY. With all its wealth of sweets could cheer. Like thee, the hardy mountaineer. Flower of his heart ! thy fragrance mild, Of peace and freedom seems to breathe ; To pluck thy blossoms in the wild, And deck his bonnet with the wreath. Where dwelt of old his rustic sires. Is all his simple wish requires. Flower of his dear-loved native land ! Alas, when distant, far more dear ! When he, from some cold foreign strand, Looks homeward through the blinding tear, IIow must his aching heart deplore That home and thee he sees no more. HEATH. How oft, though grass and moss are seen Tanned bright for want of showers, Still keeps the ling its darksome green. Thick set with little flowers. THE LILAC. (The Joy of Youth.) O NE of our sweetest spring flowers It will not live long when separated from its parent tree. LILAC. 175 THE LILAC. THOMSON. Shrubs there are, . . . That at the call of Spring Burst forth in blossomed fragrance ; lilacs, rooed In snow-white innocence or purple pride. THE LILAC. The lilac, various in array—now white, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set With purple spikes pyramidal ; as if, Studious of ornament, yet unresolved Which hues she most approves, she chose them all. THE LILAC. MRS. SIGOURNEY. Lilac of Persia ! Tell us some fine tale Of Eastern lands ; we’re fond of travelers. Have you no legends of some sultan proud, Or old fire-worshiper ? What, not one note Made on your voyage ? Well, ’tis wondrous strango That you should let so rare a chance pass by. While those who never journeyed half so far Fill sundry volumes, and expect the world To reverently peruse and magnify What it well knew before ! 176 FLORAL POESY. THE LILAC. BURNS. Oh, were my love yon lilac fair Wi’ purple blossoms in the spring ; And I a bird to shelter there, When wearied on my little wing. How wad I mourn when it was torn By autumn wild and winter rude ! But I wad sing on wanton wind, When youthfu’ May its bloom renewed. LOTUS. {Eloquence — Reqwse .) “ The lotus-flower, whose leaves I now Kiss silently, Far more than words can tell thee, how I worship thee.”— Moore. THE LOTUS. TENNYSON. H OW sweet it were, hearing the downward stream With half-shut eyes ever to seem Falling asleep in a half dream ! To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which ay ill not leave the myrrh bush on the height; ■NMBMNMMMI LOTUS. 177 To hear each other’s whispered speech ; Eating the Lotus, day by day. To watch the crisping ripples on the beach. And tender curving lines of creamy spray; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy ; To muse and brood and live again in memory. With those old faces of our infancy Heaped over with a mound of grass. Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass. The Lotus blooms below the flowery peak ; The Lotus blows by every winding creek ; All day the wind breathes low, with mellower tone ; Through every hollow cave and alley lone, Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus dust is blown. We have had enough of action and of motion, we Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam foun¬ tains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, In the hollow Lotus land to live and lie reclined On the hills like gods together, careless of mankind ; For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurled Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world. Surely, surely slumber is more sweet than toil; the shore Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar ; Oh! rest ye, brother mariners; we will not wander more. 8 * 178 FLORAL POESY. SWEET PEAS. (Delicate Pleasures .) T is singular that few of our poets have celebrated -L these exquisite flowers. We know only these pretty lines of Keats, which exactly portray them : “ Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight; With wings of gentle flush o’er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.” IVY. {Friendship.) 00 RE says : “ When the ivy of friendship is green in our souls.” Dickens assumes the same meaning. THE IVY GREEN. C. DICKENS. Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green. That creepeth o’er ruins old ; Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. IVY. m The wall must be crumbled, the stones decayed, To pleasure his dainty whim ; And the moldering dust that years have made Is a merry meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings. And a staunch old heart has he : How closely he twineth, how tight he clings To his friend, the huge oak-tree ! And slyly he traileth along the ground, And his leaves he gently waves, And he joyously twines and hugs around The rich mold of dead men’s graves. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Whole ages have fled, and their Avorks decayed. And nations scattered been, But the stout old ivv shall never fade From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its lonely days Shall fatten upon the past, For the stateliest building man can raise Is the ivy’s food at last. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. 180 FLORAL P0.ESY. IVY. CALDER CAMPBELL. Oh! falsely they accuse me, Who say I seek to check The growing sapling's flourishing ;— I better love to deck The dead and dying branches With all my living leaves. ’Tis for the old and withered tree The Ivy garlands weaves. GROUND IVY. And there upon the sod below Ground Ivy’s purple blossoms show, Like helmet of crusader knight In anther’s cross-like form of white. THE IVY. BARTON. Hast thou seen, in winter’s stormiest day, The trunk of a blighted oak, Not dead, but sinking in slow decay Beneath Time’s resistless stroke, Round which a luxuriant ivy had grown, And wreathed it with verdure no longer its own ? AMARANTH. 181 Perchance thou hast seen this sight, and then, As I at thy years might do, Passed carelessly by, nor turned again That scathed wreck to view. But now I can draw from that moldering tree Thoughts which are soothing and dear to me. Oh ! smile not, nor think it a worthless thins If it be with instructions fraught; That which will closest and longest cling Is alone worth a serious thought! Should aught be unlovely which thus can shed Grace on the dying, and leaves on the dead ? AMARANTH. {Immortality.) “Immortal amaranth.” —Mii.ton. TVyrOST poetical of all flowers in meaning is the Amaranth. It has been selected as the symbol of immortality, and has ever been associated with Death as the portal through which the soul must pass to Eternity. Milton gives crowns of amaranth to the angelic multitude assembled before the Deity : “ To the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amaranth and gold. « Immortal amaranth—a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom : but soon for man’s offense 182 FLORAL POESY. To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows And fiowers aloft, shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss, through midst of heaven Rolls o’er Elysian flowers her amber stream : With these that never fade the spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks enwreathed with beams ; Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, Impurpled with celestial rosy smile.” These fiowers, if gathered and dried, will long pre¬ serve their beauty. One of the most popular species of the amaranth is the “ Love-lies-bleeding.” The origin of this singular appellation is not known, but it has been suggested that the following verses of Campbell account for it. The daughter of O'Connor is lamenting over the tomb of Connocht Moran: “ A hero’s bride ? this desert bower, It ill befits thy gentle breeding : And wherefore dost thou love this flower To call ‘ My-love-lies-bleeding’ ? ” “ This purple flower my tears have nursed ; A hero’s blood supplied its bloom : I love it, for it was the first That grew on Connocht Moran’s tomb.” THE AMARANTH. SHELLEY. Whose sad inhabitants each year would come With willing steps, climbing that rugged height, And hang long locks of hair, and garlands bound With amaranth flowers, which, in the clime’s despite. ASPEJf. 183 Filled the frore air with unaccustomed light. Such flowers as in the wintry memory bloom Of one friend left, adorned that frozen tomb. ASPEN. ( Lamentation .) “And full of emotion, its fault doth deplore, Sigh, shiver, and quiver, and droop evermore.” Eleanor Darby. 'T'HE 1 rembling Poplar is now generally known as -L the Aspen. It is chiefly remarkable for the ceaseless tremulous motion of its leaves—a natural phenomenon, to account for which many very diverse explanations have been proffered. Miss Darby, in her “Lays of Love and Heroism,” has thus versified a German legend upon the subject ; “ The Lord of Life walked in the forest one morn, When the song-wearied nightingale slept on the thorn ; Not a breath the deep hush of the dawning hour broke, Yet every tree, even the firm knotted oak, The tall warrior pine, and the cedar so regal, The home of the stork and the haunt of the eagle, All the patriarchal kings of the forest adored, And bowed their proud heads at the sight of the Lord. “ One tree, and one only, continued erect, Too vain to show even the Saviour respect! The light giddy aspen its leafy front raised, And on the Redeemer unbendingly gazed. 184 FLORAL POESY. Then a cloud, more of sorrow than wrath, dimmed the brow Of Him to whom everything living should bow ; While to the offender, with shame now opprest, He breathed in these words the eternal behest: “ ‘Alas for thy fate ! thou must suffer, poor tree, For standing when others were bending the knee. Thou’rt doomed for thy fault an atonement to pay : Henceforth be a rush for the wild winds to sway. Sigh, sport of their fury, and slave of their will ! Bow, e’en in a calm, when all others are still ! And shivering, quivering, droop evermore, Because thou wouldst notw'ith thy brothers adore.’ “ The weak aspen trembled, turned pale with dismay, And is pallid with terror and grief to this day. Each tremulous leaf of the penitent tree Obeys to this moment the heavenly decree. ’Tis the sport of the wild winds, the slave of their will ; E’en without a breeze bends, when all others stand still ; And full of emotion, its fault doth deplore, Sigh, shiver, and quiver, and droop evermore.” THE ASPEN TREE. CHARLES SWAIN. Why tremblest thou, Aspen ? no storm threatens nigh ; Not a cloud mars the peace of the love-beaming sky ; ’Tis the spring of thy being—no autumn is near Thy green boughs to wither, thy sweet leaves to sear! The sun, like a crown, o’er thy young head shines free ; Then wherefore thus troubled ? what fearest thou, fair tree ? I have watched through the mildest, the stillest ot hours, When Nature slept soft on her pillow of flowers; ASPEN. 185 When, though all things appeared ’neath her influence blest, Thou alone wert disturbed, thou alone couldst not rest ! But still, as lamenting some dreadful decree, rhou groanedst in the calm, like an outcast lone tree ! A voice from its leaves seemed to wail on mine ear, “ List, mortal ; attend the dark source of my fear ; Ah, learn the dread hour when we sank ’neath rebuke, And our boughs, as if grasped by a hurricane, shook ! When the morn rose in blood, when the dead wept around, And a curse ’gainst our seed burst in woe from the ground !— “ The Cross, amidst lightning on Calvary stained, Was made from our roots; there His blood hath re¬ mained ! Creation, accursmg, in misery spoke, And a shudder eternal then first o’er us broke ! From the serpent we’re named, the last doomed to be¬ tray ! Oh ! no rest for the Aspen till earth fades away ! ” 136 FLORAL POESY. CORNFLOWER. (Delicacy.) “ Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell If my lover loves me, and loves me well.” Anonymous. rpiIE classic name of the bright blue Cornflower is -i- Cyanus ; and it was so named after a worshiper of Flora, who made garlands for public festivities out of various sorts of wild flowers, and who lingered from morn till eve amid the corn, weaving the blossoms that she had collected. Its petals are used for divination, as the thistle-down is. This flower, although now so common in our corn¬ fields, is thought not to be indigenous, but to have been brought from the East among some imported gram. Its deep blue hue is so deep that it almost approaches a purple, and as such the poet addresses it: “ There is a flower, a purple flower, Sown by the wind, nursed by the shower, O'er which Love breathed a powerful spell, The truth of whispering hope to tell. Now, gentle flower, I pray thee tell If my lover loves me, and loves me well : So may the fall of the morning dew Keep the sun from fading thy tender blue.” CORNFLOWER. 18 ? FIELD FLOWERS. CAMPBELL. Ye field flowers ! the gardens eclipse you, ’tis true. Yet, wildlings of nature, 1 dote upon you ; For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold. I love you for lulling me back into dreams Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams, And of birchen glades breathing their balm , While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote, And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon’s note Made music that sweetened the calm. Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune Than ye speak to my heart, little wildlings of June ; Of old ruinous castles ye tell : I thought it delightful your beauties to find When the magic of nature first breathed on my mind, And your blossoms were part of her spell. Even now what affections the violet awakes ! What loved little islands, twice seen in her lakes. Can the wild water-lily restore. What landscapes I read in the primrose’s looks. What pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks In the vetches that tangle the shore! 188 FLORAL POESY. Earth’s cultureless buds ! to my heart ye were dear Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear, Had scathed my existence’s bloom ; Once I welcome you more, in life’s passionless stage, With .the visions of youth to revisit my age, And I wish you to grow on my tomb. CYPRESS. {Mourning.) “The cypress is the emblem of mourning.”—S hakspeare. A COOBDINGr to Ovid, this tree was named after Cyparissus, an especial favorite of Apollo. He had accidentally slain his pet stag, and was so sorrow- stricken that he besought the gods to doom his life to everlasting gloom ; and they, in compliance with his request, transformed him into a cypress-tree. “When, lost in tears, the blood his veins forsakes, His every limb a grassy hue partakes ; His flowing tresses, stiff and bushy grown, Point to the stars, and taper to a cone. Apollo thus : ‘ Ah ! youth, beloved in vain, Long shall thy boughs the gloom I feel retain ; Henceforth, when mourners grieve, their grief to share, Emblem of woe, the cypress shall be there . 5 ” CYPRESS. 189 THE CYPRESS WREATH. SIR W. SCOTT. 0 lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree ! Too lively glow the lilies light. The varnished holly’s all too bright, The May-flower and the eglantine May shade a brow less sad than mine ; But, lady, weave no wreath for me, Or weave it of the cypress-tree. Let dimpled Mirth his temples twine With tendrils of the laughing vine; The manly oak, the pensive yew, To patriot and to sage be due ; The myrtle bough bids lovers live, But that Matilda will not give; Then, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree. Let merry England proudly rear Her blended roses, bought so dear ; Let Albin bind her bonnet blue With heath and harebell dipped with dew ; On favored Erin’s crest be seen The flower she loves of emerald green—■ But, lady, twine no wreath for me, Or twine it of the cypress-tree. Strike the wild harp, while maids prepare The ivy meet for minstrel’s hair ; And while his crown of laurel leaves With bloody hand the victor weaves, 190 FLORAL POESY. Let the loud trump his triumph tell ; But when you hear the passing hell, Then, lady, twine a wreath for me. And twine it of the cypress-tree. • Yes ! twine for me the cypress hough ; But, 0 Matilda, twine not now ! Stay till a few brief months are past, And 1 have looked and loved my last ! When villagers my shroud bestrew With pansies, rosemary, and rue,— Then, lady, weave a wreath for me. And weave it of the cypress-tree. THE CYPRESS-TREE. BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE. A slender tree upon a height in lonely beauty towers, So dark, as if it only drank the rushing thunder showers ; When birds were at their evening hymns, in thoughtful reverie, I’ve marked the shadows deep and long, from yonder cypress-tree. I’ve thought of oriental tombs, of silent cities, where In many a row the cypress stands, in token of despair; And thought, beneath the evening star, how many a maiden crept From life’s discordant scene, and o’er the tomb in silence wept. THISTLE. 191 I’ve thought, thou lonely cypress-tree, thou hermit of the grove, How many a heart, alas ! is doomed forlorn on earth to rove ; When all that charmed the morn of life, and cheered the youthful mind, Have like the sunbeams passed away, and left but clouds behind ! Thou wert a token unto me, thou stem with dreary leaf, So desolate thou look'st, as oarth were but a home of grief! A few short years shall swiftly glide, and then thy boughs shall wave, When tempests beat and breezes sigh, above my silent grave ! THISTLE. {Independence .) “ The thistle shall bloom on the bed of the brave.”— Anon. A S the national emblem of Scotland the Thistle has been celebrated, far-and wide, by the many bards of its brave people. There is some little doubt as to how this flower was first adopted by the Scots. Some patriotic authors go back to the days of the Piets in order to trace the origin of its use, and adduce a roman¬ tic legend in proof of the antiquity of the custom. Be this as it may, the Plantagenets were not prouder of 192 FLORAL POES\. the broom than were the Stuarts of their thistle ; and princes of the royal house were wont to wear the Claus- au-pheidh , as it is called in Gaelic, with all the respect that its presumed antique and honorable history en¬ titled it to. The poets of Scotland are ever ready to pay it homage, and the following thoroughly charac¬ teristic poem, to be found in Hogg’s ‘ Jacobite Relics,’ is supposed to have been written by the Ettrick Shep¬ herd himself • “ 4 Let them boast of the country gave Patrick his fame, Of the land of the ocean and Anglian name, With the red blushing roses and shamrock so green ; Far dearer to me are the lulls of the North, The land of blue mountains, the birthplace of worth ; Those mountains where Freedom has fixed her abode, Those wide-spreading glens where no slave ever trod, Where blooms the red heather and thistle so green. “ 4 Though rich be the soil where blossoms the rose, And barren the mountains and covered with snows Where blooms the red heather and thistle so green ; Yet for friendship sincere, and for loyalty true, And for courage so bold which no foe could subdue, Unmatched is our country, unrivaled our swains, And lovely and true are the nymphs on our plains, Where rises the thistle, the thistle so green. “ 4 Far-famed are our sires in the battles of yore, And many the cairnies that rise on our shore O’er the foes of the land of the thistle so green : And many a cairnie shall rise on our strand, Should the torrent of war ever burst on our land; Let foe come on foe, as wave comes on wave, We’ll give them a welcome, we’ll give them a grave Beneath the red heather and thistle so green. “ 4 Oh! dear to our souls as the blessings of Heaven Is the freedom we boast, is the land that we live in, / CLOVER. 193 The land of red heather and thistle so green ; For that land and that freedom our fathei’s have bled, And we swear by the blood that our fathers have shed, No foot of a foe shall e’er tread on their grave ; But the thistle shall bloom on the bed of the brave, The thistle of Scotland, the thistle so green.’ “ There appears to be no proof of this sturdy flower having been adopted as the symbol of Scotland earlier than the middle of the fifteenth century, when a puri¬ tanic council held a solemn consultation within the walls of the old Council-house at Edinburgh as to the advisability of erasing the papistic figure of St. Giles— which for so many centuries had been triumphantly borne through the battle and the breeze—from the old standard : religious animosity gained the day, and the time-honored figure of the saint was replaced by the thistle. ”—J. Ingram. CLOVER OR, SHAMROCK. (J Promise.) HE white Clover, or Shamrock, is the national -L emblem of Ireland, and claims an equal place in history with England’s rose or Scotland’s thistle. This symbol of their country is worn bv Irishmen on the anniversary and in commemoration of St. Patrick’s land¬ ing near Wicklow, in the beginning of the fourth cen- 9 194 FLORAL POESY. tury of the Christian era. The patron saint is reported to have explained to his disciples the mysteries of the Trinity by means of a clover-leaf, or trefoil. “ Brave sons of Hibernia, your shamrocks display, Forever made sacred on St. Patrick’s day ; ’Tis a type of religion, the badge of our saint, And a plant of that soil which no venom can taint. “ Both Venus and Mars to that land lay a claim, Their title is owned and recorded by fame ; But St. Patrick to friendship has hallowed the ground, And made hospitality ever abound. • “ Then with shamrocks and myi’tle let’s garnish the bowl, In converse convivial and sweet flow of soul ; To our saint make oblations of generous wine— What saint could have more ?—sure, ’tis worship divine ! “ Tho’ jovial and festive in seeming excess. We’ve hearts sympathetic of others’ distress; May our shamrocks continue to flourish, and prove An emblem of charity, friendship, and love. “ May the blights of disunion no longer remain, Our shamrock to wither, its glories to stain ; May it flourish forever, we Heaven invoke, Kindly sheltered and fenced by the brave Irish oak ! ” Bees delight in the sweet-scented blossoms of what Tennyson aptly calls the “ Rare ’broidery of the purple clover.” Walter Thornbury has given us the following pretty lyric, “ In Clover “ There is clover, honey-sweet, Thick and tangled at our feet ; Crimson-spotted lies the field, As in fight the warrior’s shield : DEAD LEAVES. 195 Yonder poppies, full of scorn, Proudly wave above the com; There is music at our feet In the clover, honey-sweet. “ You may track the winds that blow Through the cornfields as they go ; From the wheat, as from a sea, Springs the lark in ecstasy. Now the bloom is on the blade, In the sun and in the shade, There is music at our feet In the clover, honey-sweet.” The Druids held the clover in great repute, deeming it, it is supposed, a charm against evil spirits. Hope- was depicted by the ancients as a little child standing on tiptoe, and holding one of these flowers in his hand. DEAD LEAVES. {Melancholy.) “ Ah me ! a leaf with sighs can wring My lips asunder.”—E. B. Browning. ELLA INGRAM. T HE withered leaves, trembling, love,. Fall to the ground ; And strewn over all, love, Lie dying around, 196 FLORAL POESY. Killed by the frost, love, The flowers scattered lie ; Their brightness is lost. And neglected they die. The world it looks dreary, love. And thick falls the rain ; My heart it is weary, love. My head throbs with pain. My hopes thickly fail, love, Like the leaves from a tree, And I cannot recall Their beauty to me. With thy heart I am blest, love, So I’ll brave the chill rain ; And patiently rest, love, Till the sun shines again. And I hope when the Spring, love. Gives leaves to the tree, Some flowers it will bring, love, For you and for me. WITHERING—WITHERING. HOFFMAN. Withering— withering—all are withering— All of Hope’s flowers that youth hath nursed— Flowers of love too early blossoming ! Buds of ambition too frail to burst mistletoe. 197 Faintly — faintly—oh ! how faintly I feel life’s pulses ebb and flow : Yet sorrow, I know thou dealest daintily With one who should not wish to live moe. Nay ! why, young heart, thus timidly shrinking, A\hy doth thy upward wing thus tire ? Y by aie thy pinions so droopingly sinking, When they should only waft thee higher P Upward—upward let them be waving, Lifting the soul toward her place of birth : There are guerdons there, more worth thy having_ Far more than any these lures of the earth. mistletoe. (/ surmount Difficulties.) “The sacred bush.”— Tennyson. n^HE Mistletoe scarcely requires more than a passing allusion ; every one is acquainted with that re¬ markable custom which permits any lad to exact from any hiss the toll of one kiss, when they accidentally meet where Sacred ceilings, dark and gray, Bear the mistletoe.” In Holstein the country people call the mistletoe “ the specters wand,” from the supposition that holding a branch of it will not only enable a man to see ghosts, but force them to speak to him. 198 FLORAL POESY. THE MISTLETOE. On Christmas-eve the bells were rung. On Christmas-eve the mass was sung ; That only night in all the year Saw the stolecl priest the chalice near. The damsel donned her kirtle sheen ; The hall was dressed with holly green : Forth to the woods did merry men go. To gather in the mistletoe ; Then opened wide the baron’s hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all. UNDER THE MISTLETOE. Under the mistletoe, pearly and green. Meet the kind lips of the young and the old ; Under the mistletoe hearts may be seen Glowing as though they had never been cold. Under the mistletoe, peace and goodwill Mingle the spirits that long have been twain ; Leaves of the olive-branch twine with it still. While breathings of hope fill the loud carol strain. Yet why should this holy and festival mirth In the reign of old Christmas-tide only be found ? Hang up love’s mistletoe over the earth, And let us kiss under it all the year round. Hang up the mistletoe over the land Where the poor dark man is spurned by the white ; Hang it wherever Oppression’s strong hand Wrings from the helpless humanity’s right; PASSION-FLOWER. 199 Hang it on high where the starving lip sobs. And the patrician one turneth in scorn ; ’ Let it be met where the purple steel robs Child of its father, and field of its corn. Hail it with joy in our yule-lighted mirth, But let it not fade with the festival sound ; Hang up love’s mistletoe over the earth, And let us kiss under it all the year round ! PASSION-FLOWER. (Faith. When the floiver is reversed it means Superstition.) T HIS exquisite flo wer is the symbol of Faith. It is supposed to represent the instruments of the Liucihxion ; hence its name. THE PASSION-FLOWER. All-beauteous flower! whose center glows With studs of gold ; thence streaming flows Ray-like effulgence ; next is seen A rich expanse of varying hue, Enfringed with an empurpled blue, And streaked with young Pomona’s green. 200 FLORAL POESY. High o’er the pointal, decked with gold, (Emblem mysterious to behold !) A radiant cross its form expands ; Its opening arms appear to embrace The whole collective human race, Refuse of all men, in all lands. TO THE PASSION-FLOWER. BARTON. If superstition’s baneful art First gave thy mystic name, Reason, 1 trust, would steel my heart Against its groundless claim ; But if, in fancy’s pensive hour, By grateful feelings stirred, Her fond imaginative power That name at first conferred,— Though lightly truth her flights may prize, By wild vagary driven, For once their blameless exercise May surely be forgiven. We roam the seas—give new-found isles Some king’s or conqueror’s name : We rear on earth triumphant piles As meeds of earthly fame :— We soar to heaven ; and to outlive Our life’s contracted span, Unto the glorious stars we give The names of mortal man : PASSION-FLOWER. Then may not one poor floweret’s bloom The holier memory share Of Him who, to avert our doom, Vouchsafed our sins to bear ? God dwelleth not in temples reared By work of human hands, Yet shrines august, by men revered. Are found in Christian lands. And may not e’en a simple flower Proclaim His glorious praise, Whose fiat, only, had the power Its form from earth to raise ? Then freely let thy blossom ope Its beauties—to recall A scene which bids the humble hope In Him who died for all ! THE PASSION-FLOWER. ANON. Its tender shoots, fostered with care, extend Far in festooned luxuriance. Its drooping flowers, to blend, Sweet mixture! modesty and loveliness; But more—when closely viewed, this flower appears lo bear the sacred mark of sacred tears, Adding to the plant’s beauty—holiness. 9 * 201 202 FLORAL POESY. How like this flower can woman be, so fair ! So beautiful! too delicate her mind Would seem, the world’s rude withering frost to hear Without some guardian’s help, round whom to bind Its tendrils in pure trusting confidence. When rightly trained her blossoms bloom, they shine In more than beauty’s luster ; they combine With earthly charms, celestial innocence, Breathing of sacred things : yet, like that flower, alone To those who view her near, her holiness is known. holly. {Foresight.) “ I, in this wisdom of the holly-tree, can emblems see.’’-S outhey. IIIS tree is sacred to Christmas and domestic mirth. THE HOLLY-TREE. SOUTHEY. O READER ! hast thou ever stood to see The holly-tree ? The eye that contemplates it well perceives Its glossy leaves, Ordered by an Intelligence so wise As. might confound the atheist’s sophistries. HOLLY. 203 Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, Wrinkled and keen; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound ; But, as they grow where nothing is to fear. Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear. I love to view these things with curious eyes And moralize ; And, in this wisdom of the holly-tree, Can emblems see, Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, One which may profit in the after-time. Thus, though abroad, perchance, I might appear Harsh and austere, To those who on my leisure would intrude Reserved and rude, Gentle at home amid my friends I’d be. Like the high leaves upon the holly-tree And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know. Some harshness show, All vam asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the holly-tree. And as, when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The holly leaves a sober hue display. Less bright than they ; But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly tree ?— FLORAL POESY. 201 So, serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng, So would I seem among the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the holly-tree. THE HOLLY. ELIZA COOK. The holly ! the holly ! oh, twine it with the bay - ■ Come, give the holly a song ; for it helps to drive stern Winter away, With his garments so somber and long. It peeps through the trees with its berries of red, And its leaves of burnished green, When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, And not even the daisy is seen. Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, That hangs over peasant and king ; While we laugh and carouse ’neatli its glittering boughs, To the Christmas holly we’ll sing. The gale may whistle, and frost may come To fetter the gurgling rill ; The woods may be bare and the warblers dumb— But the holly is beautiful st/11. In the revel and light of princely halls The bright holly-branch is found ; And its shadow falls on the lowliest—falls While the brimming horn goes round. HAREBELL. 205 The ivy lives long, but its home must be Where graves and ruins are spread ; There’s beauty about the cypress-tree, But it flourishes near the dead ; The laurel the warrior’s brow may wreathe. But it tells of fears and blood. I sing the holly—and who can breathe Aught of that that is not good ? HAREBELL {Submission and Grief.) HIS lovely blossom merits its first meaning, but scarcely its last. Those who have listened to the faint, sweet rustle of its bells when the breeze passes over them, might rather think it a mirthful than a sad flower. And yet such has been generally the fancy it has given birth to in the poets. Witness the following charming verses: THE HAREBELL. R. HEBER. With drooping bells of clearest blue Thou didst attract my childish view, Almost resembling The azure butterflies that flew Where on the heath thy blossoms grew, So lightly trembling. 4 206 FLORAL POESY. Where feathery fern and golden broom Increase the sand-rock cavern's gloom, I’ve seen thee tangled, ’Mid tufts of purple heather bloom, By vain Arachne’s treacherous loom. With dewdrops spangled. ’Mid ruins tumbling to decay. Thy flowers their heavenly hues display. Still freshly springing Where pride and pomp have passed away, On mossy tomb and turret gray. Like friendship clinging. When glow-worm lamps illume the scene. And silvery daisies dot the green, Thy flowers revealing, Perchance to soothe the fairy-queen, With faint sweet tones, on night serene, Thy soft bells pealing. But most I love thine azure braid, When softer flowers are all decayed. And thou appearest Stealing beneath the hedgerow shade. Like joys that linger as they fade, Whose last are dearest. Thou art the flower of memory ; The pensive soul recalls in thee The year’s past pleasures ; And led by kindred thought will flee. Till back to careless infancy The path she measures, HAREBELL. 207 Beneath autumnal breezes bleak, So faintly fair, so sadly meek. I've seen thee bending ; Pale as the pale blue veins that streak Consumption’s thm transparent cheek. With death hues blending. Thou shalt be sorrow’s love and mine. The violet and the eglantine With spring are banished : In summer’s beam the roses shine ; But I of thee my wreath will twine, W hen these are vanished. THE HAREBELL. CAROLINE SYMONDS. In Spring’s green lap there blooms a ilowet- Whose cup imbibes each vernal shower, That sips fresh Nature’s balmy dew. Clad in her sweetest, purest blue ; Yet shines the ruddy eye of morning, The shaggy wood’s brown shade adorning. Simplest floweret ! Child of May ! Though hid from the broad eye of day, Doomed in the shade thy sweets to shed. Unnoticed droop thy languid head : Still Nature’s darling thou’lt remain ; She feeds thee with her softest rain ; Fills each sweet bud with honeyed tears, With genial gales thy bosom cheers. 208 FLORAL POESY. Oh ! then, unfold thy simple charms In yon deep thicket’s sheltering arms. Far from the fierce and sultry glare, No heedless hand shall harm thee there ; Still, then, avoid the gaudy scene, The flaunting sun, the embroidered green, And bloom and fade with chaste reserve, unseen. THE HAREBELL. SCOTT. “For me,”—she stooped, and, looking round, Plucked a blue harebell from the ground,— “ For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days, This little flower, that loves the lea, May well my simple emblem be ; It d viia ks heaven’s dew blithe as the rose That m the king's own garden grows ; And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard, is bound to swear He ne’er saw coronet so fair.” BROOM. 209 BROOM. ( Humility.) “ The memorial flower of a princely race.” G EOFFRY, Count of Anjou, acquired the surname of Plantagenet from the incident of his wearing a sprig of broom in his helmet on a day of battle. This Geoffry was second husband to Matilda, or Maud, Empress of Germany and daughter of Henry I. of Eng¬ land; and from this Plantagenet family were descended all our Edwards and Henrys. It could not be expected that so romantic a story would escape the poets, and accordingly we find it em¬ balmed in the following verses : “ Time was when thy golden chain of flowers Was linked, the warrior’s brow to bind ; When reared in the shelter of royal bowers, Thy wreath with a kingly coronal twined. “ The chieftain who bore thee high in his crest, And bequeathed to his race thy simple name, Long ages past has sunk to his rest, And only survives in the rolls of fame. “ Though a feeble thing that Nature forms, A frail and perishing flower art thou ; Yet thy race has survived a thousand storms That have made the monarch and warrior bow. “ The storied urn may be crumbled to dust, And time may the marble bust deface ; But thou wilt be faithful an.d firm to thy trust, The memorial flower of a princely race.” 210 FLORAL POESY. VERVAIN. (You enchant me.) ERVAIN, or wild verbena, has been the floral V symbol of enchantment from time immemorial. It was styled “sacred herb” by the Greeks, who as¬ cribed a thousand marvelous properties to it, one of which was its power of reconciling enemies. Under the influence of this belief, they, as did also the Romans, sent it by their ambassadors on treaties of peace ; and whenever they dispatched their heralds to offer terms of reconciliation, renewal or suspension of hostilities, one of them invariably bore a sprig of vervain. In his “Muses’ Elysium,” Drayton calls it “ holy vervain,” and thus speaks of it: “A wreath of vervain heralds wear Amongst our garlands named. Being sent that weighty news to bear Of peace or war proclaimed.” The peoples of antiquity also frequently used this plant in various kinds of divinations, sacrifices, and incantations ; and its specific name of verbena originally signified a herb used to decorate altars. Ben Jonson says : “ Bring your garlands, and with reverence place The vervain on the altar.” It was much valued by the Druids, being regarded by them as only second to the mistletoe : they used it largely in their divinations and casting of lots. SWEET SEDGE. 211 Sir William Davenant, in his poem of “Gondibert,” alludes to its curative powers : “ Black melancholy rusts, that fed despair Through wounds’ long rage, with springled vervain cleared ; Strewed leaves of willow to refresh the air, And with rich fumes his sullen senses cheered.” Vervain is used still amongst the Cornish peasantry as a charm against ague. In gathering the vervain for “good luck,” the herb is first crossed with the hand, and then blessed, thus : “ Hallowed be thou, vervain, As thou growest in the ground ; For in the Mount of Calvary There thou first wast found.” SWEET SEDGE. {Resignation.) USH bearing is still kept up in the north-west of -LV England. Our ancestors strewed their rooms and churches with rushes, and of these, sweetest of all was the Sedge. It is well chosen for resignation, as when trodden on its incense to God is sweetest. 212 FLORAL POESY. THE SWEET SEDGE. CALDER CAMPBELL. 0 river-side, Where soft green rushes bear dark flowers, And reedy grasses weave dark bowers, Through which fleet minnows glide— 0 river banks, let me from you convey Something to scatter in yon ancient minster gra}. 0 minster gray ! Where graves of friends beloved are found, I come to thee with strewments.— Round Each blade of grass, each spray Of Acorus, a fragrant essence breathes, Nature’s own incense shed to sanctify these wreaths ! 0 rushes green, With blossoms wan or brown !—and ye Sweet flags, from whose scent-roots tome Come thoughts of the Has Been, Ye are the fitting plants at eve to shed A vague mysterious perfume o’er the silent dead ! “ Not so !—not so ! ” A voice replies : “ For joy alone These reeds and rushes here are strown !” But I again cry : “ Lo ! Joy’s emblems here I fitly use, to prove That life and death alike spring from God’s holy love, ” FLOWER DIALOGUES. I love you. I love you, and it causes me both pleasure and pain. I love you silently. I share your sentiments. You may hope. Sneak out. You may hope.. I am sorry. 1 share your sentiments. Do you love me ?. If you love me, you will find out., . Maiden-blush Bose. l dare not love you. Rose. I live for thee. I do not love you. ing away rose petals. I die if neglected.. I offer you my friendship. leaves. Try to forget me. Remember me. Be frank with me. I give you the truest friendship .. . Geranium. Try to save me. Be assured of my brotherly (or sisterly) sympathy. Fly with me. Don’t talk nonsense—I think you silly. Purple Columbine or Pomegranate flowers. 213 or 214 FLORAL TOESY. Be my Valentine. You are always delightful. 1 am very angry with you. I have just remembered. Second thoughts are best. I agree to it. I am foolishly anxious. . Will you grant me an interview ? How dare you !. You are a miser. Be prudent. Be warned in time—Beware !.... Be mine. You are betrayed. Beware !. . . Beware of a false friend . I am in bonds. You boast. Call me not beautiful. It is a calumny. Beware of slander. Be merry. Come down to me. Be comforted. Could you bear poverty ?. Do not fear. You are in danger. It is a dangerous pleasure. Your friend is deceitful. Stop—Wait. Depart. I desire to please you. Despair not ; God is everywhere. It is difficult.. I am disappointed. You have my disdain. You are a good little housewife . Will you be a domestic wife ?... Do not despise my poverty. Crocus. Cineraria. A sprig of Furze. China Aster. , China Aster. A Straw. Red Columbine. Pimpernel. A Sprig of Larch. .Scarlet Auricula. . Ziphion Spinosum. .Echites—also Purpurea. .Four-leaved Clover. . White Catchfly. . Oleander. .Francisca Latifolia. Convolvulus (dead) if in prison; living,if of love. . Hydrangea. .Rose unique. . Hellebore. . Oleander and Hellebore. . Yellow Crocuses. .Jacob's Ladder. . Scarlet Geranium. .Browallia Jamisonii. . Poplar leaves. .Rhododendron. . Tuberose. .Ivy and Dogsbane. . Eupatorium. . Dandelion puff-ball. Mezereon. . White Julienne. Blackthorn. ,. Carolina Syringa. .. Rue, or Yellow Carnation. .. Flax and Thrift. .. Flax and Honeysuckle. . .Shepherd's Purse. FLOWER DIALOGUES. 215 Do not refuse me. Eschscholtzia. I doubt you. Apricot blossom. 1 envy you. The Bramble. You are mistaken. Bee Orchis or Fly Orchis. I can give you esteem ; not love. Spider wort and Straw¬ berry tree. I expect you. Anemone. Forget me. Moonwort. I hope you may prosper. Flowering Almond and Beech leaves. Dine with us. Oak leaves. I am your captive. Peach blossom. Be silent. White Hose. I declare against you . Wild Tansy. I desire a return of affection. Jonquil. I am so much obliged to you. Mint. I feel your hospitality . . . Flax. I offer you my fortune . or, I will lend you money. Calceolaria. Give me a kiss.. . Mistletoe. Do make haste .. Yellow Balsam. Pray do ; please do . Burdock leaf. 1 am independent ... Thistle. I don’t care for it.. Candytuft. I know T can’t trust you .. Foxglove. You are very feeble . Dahlia. I feel very jealous. French Marigold. Are you jealous ?. . Yellow Rose. Be happy. Wood Sorrel. Keep your promise. ... . Petunia. What shall I do ? . Aspen. Let me go. Butterfly Weed. Be merry. Shamrock. Live for me. Arbor Vitce. I love you. Myrtle. I am forsaken. Willoic. Make haste. Dianthus. My regrets will follow you to the grave Asphodel , Rosea;ary. Remember me.. Rosemary. Marry me.. American Linden 216 FLORAL POESY. T am very unhappy. Dead leaves . dark Gera¬ nium. You are verv clever. Clematis. Your happiness won’t last. Virginian Spiderwort. Never despair. Watcher by the Wayside. Be friends. Sprig of Hazel. Do make up our quarrel. A Filbert. I forbid you. Sprig of Privet. I promise to protect you. Bearded Crepis. Pray for me. White Verbena. Take care. Golden Rod. I prophesy that you will marry soon.. .Marigold, Woodbine, and Blackthorn. Success crown your wishes. Coronella. For shame. Peony. We must part. Carolina Jessamine. Such worth is rare . Achimenes. You surprise me. Truffle. I suspect you. Champignon. Accept my sympathy. Balm. Thanks.. Agrimony. The variety of your conversation de¬ lights me. Clarkia. Thee only do 1 love. Arbutus. I will think about you. Pansy. Tell the truth .. White Chrysanthemum. I cannot accept your love. Scabious. Unite against our enemies . Scarlet Verbena. Don’t be greedy.. Lupine. Watch.. . Dame Violet. Will you accompany me to the East ?.. Stephanotis. Will you dance with me?. White Hyacinth. You are cold. Hortensta. You are my dearest pet . Mignonnette. I change but in death. Bay leaf. Adieu, but remember me. A broken flower and a Pansy. -1 BOUQUETS. - I.—Remember our rendezvous, but beware of a false friend. 1. Remembrance. .. .Rosemary. 2. Rendezvous. ,.. Chickweed. 3. Beware of false friends... ... Franciscea Latifolia. II.—Our unexpected meeting left but transient lm- pressions. Answer .—Vulgar minds soon forget. 1. Unexpected meeting. .. .Lemon Geranium. 2. Transient impressions.... ... Withered White Rose. 3. Vulgar minds. .. .African Marigold. 4. Forgetfulness. . .Moonivort. III.—My fortitude forsook me on your refusal to be mine. 1. Fortitude. .. Lipter acanthus Spectabilis. 2. Forsaken. .. Laburnum. 3. Refusal. . .Striped Carnation. 4. Be mine. .. Four-leaved Clover. IV.—Do not refuse to come down and comfort my solitude. 1. Do not ref use. .. Eschscholtzia. 2. Come down. .. Jacob's Ladder. 3. Comfort. . .Pear Tree. 4. Solitude. . .Heath. 217 { 218 FLOKAL POESY. \ . —Your affectation and deceit I disdain. 1. Affectation. Coxcomb Amaranth. 2. Deceit. Fly-trap. 3. Disdain. Yellow Carnation. YI.—I love to disappoint your curiosity. 1. Love.i. Red Rose. 2. Disappoint.. Carolina Syringa. 3. Curiosity. Sycamore. VII.—I am docile and dejected, do not refuse me. 1. Docile . Rush. 2. Dejected.. Lichen. 3. Do not refuse.. Carrot Floiver. VIIL—I hope you may be happy, and offer you pecuniary aid. 1. Hope. Flowering Almond. 2. May you be happy. Volkamenia. 3. Offer pecuniary aid. Calceolaria. IX.—Be temperate in your taste. 1. Temperance. Azalea. 2. Taste. Scarlet Fuchsia. X. —Let the bonds of marriage unite us. 1. Bonds. Blue Convolvulus. 2. Marriage. Ivy. 3. Unite us. A few whole Straws. XI. —Meet me to-night; do not forget. 1. Meet me. Everlasting Pea. 2. To-night . Night Convolvulus. 3. Do not forget. Forget-me-not. BOUQUETS. 219 XII.—I weep for your indifference, and r:n melan¬ choly on account of your coldness. 1. I weep for you. Purple Verbena. 2. Indifference. Mustard Seed. 3. Melancholy. Dead Leaves. 4. Coldness. Agnus Castus. XIII.—L. i.-j bonds of marriage unite us. 1. Bonds. Blue Convolvulus. 2. Marriage. Ivy. 3. Unite us. A few whole Straws. XIV. —Farewell ! give me your good wishes. Forget me not. 1. Farewell. Sprig of Spruce Fir. 2. Give me your good wishes. . .Sweet Basil. 3. Forget me not. Forget-me-not. XV. —Your patriotism, courage, and fidelity merit everlasting remembrance. 1. Patriotism. Nasturtium. 2. Courage . . . Oak Leaves. 3. Fidelity.... .Heliotrope. 4. Everlasting Remembrance.. .Everlasting, or Immortelles. XVI. —Your frivolity and malevolence will cause you to be forsaken by all. 1. Frivolity. London Pride. 2. Malevolence. Lobelia. 3. Forsaken. Laburnum. The flowers should be bound together with a fading leaf. XVII. —Be assured of my sympathy. May you find consolation. 1. Be assured of my sympathy. . Thrift. 2. Consolation. Red Peppy. FLORAL POESY. 220 XVIII. —By foresight you will surmount your diffi¬ culties. 1. Foresight. Holly. 2. You will surmount your diffi¬ culties . Mistletoe. XIX.—Your insincerity and avarice make me hate you. ^ Insincerity. Chewy Blossom, ov Foxylove. 2. Avarice. Scarlet Auricula. 3. Hatred. Turk’s Cap. XX.—Beware of deceit. Danger is near. Depart 1. Beware. Oleander . 2. Deceit. White Flytrap. 3. Danger is near. Rhododendron. 4. Depart. Dandelion, or Thistle Seed-head, XXI.—You are fickle, indiscreet, and affected. Therefore you are hated. 1. Fickle. Abatina. 2. Indiscreet .. . AlinoTid J31 ossotyi . 3. Affected. Cockscomb. 4. Hated. Basil. XXII.—Humility, meekness, and truth have won the love I give to thee only. 1. Humility. Small Bindweed. 2. Meekness. .Birch. 3. Truth. White Chrysanthemum. 4. Have won. Parsley. 5. Love for thee only. Arbutus. MODIFICATIONS OF THE FLOWER LANGUAGE. TF a flower be given reversed, its original significa- tion is understood to be contradicted, and the oppo¬ site meaning to be implied. A rosebud divested of its thorns, but retaining its leaves, conveys the sentiment, “ I fear no longer; I hope : ” thorns signifying fears, and leaves, hopes. Stripped of leaves and thorns, the bud signifies, “ There is nothing to hope or fear.” The expression of flowers is also varied by changing their positions. Place a marigold on the head, and it signifies “Mental anguish;” on the bosom, “Indif¬ ference.” When a flower is given, the pronoun I is understood by bending it to the right hand; thou, by inclining it to the left. “Yes” is implied by touching the flower given with the lips. “ No,” by pinching off a petal, and casting it away. “I am ” is expressed by a laurel-leaf twisted round the bouquet. “ I have,” by an ivy-leaf folded together. “I offer you,” by a leaf of the Virginian Creeper. To win—a sprig of parsley in the bouquet. “May,” or “I desire”—an ivy tendril round the bouquet 221 222 FLORAL POESY. FLOWER GAME. H AVE a large bouquet ready; let each person draw from it a flower, and the meaning attached to it will typify the future consort’s character. For ex¬ ample : —Say your bouquet for Spring consists or Violets, Hyacinths, Primroses, Daisies, Heart s-ease, Hawthorn, Daffodils; then the characters would be Violet, modest; Hyacinth, playful; Dark Hyacinth, mournful ; Primrose, simple, candid; Daisy, an eaii) riser; Heart’s-ease, kind, charitable, or thoughtful; Hawthorn, hopeful; Daffodil, daring. For Summer. Rose, loving ; White Rose, secret and canny ; Pink, haughty; Jasmine, elegant or amiable ; Lily, pure , Mig- nonnette, clever; Tulip, proud, conceited; Stock, hasty; Mezereon, a flirt ; Foxglove, deceitful ; Myrtle, de¬ voted ; Laurel, brave ; a Reed, musical; Hollyhock, ambitious , Marigold, rich ; Poppy, lazy ; Cornflower, extravagant; Dead Leaves, old ; Geranium, stupid ; Mimosa, nervous; Thistle, patriotic ; Thyme, merry ; Aster, changeable; Oak-leaf, hospitable. The profession of the destined lover will be found thus :—Lily, a person of rank ; Rose, an artist; This¬ tle, a Scotchman, and a soldier; Oak-leaf, a farmei , Laurel, a poet; Foxglove, a lawyer ; Cypress, a doctor ; Tulip, a freeholder ; Passion-flower, ,a clergyman; Marigold, a merchant; Shamrock, an Irishman ; Leek, a Welshman. FLOWER GAME. 223 Of course the persons who draw the flowers are sup¬ posed to be ignorant of their meaning • or they may draw blindfolded. In winter this game may be played with painted flower cards ; painting a pack would be a pleasant home amusement; or dried flowers gummed on cards would answer perfectly well. The players dien draw a card instead of a flower. THE VOCABULARY. PART THE FIRST. Abecedary. Volubility. Abatina. Fickleness. Acacia. Friendship. Acacia, Rose or White. Elegance. Acacia, Yellow. Secret love. Acanthus. The fine arts. Artifice. Acalia. Temperance. Achillea Millefolia. War. Achimenes Cupreata. Such worth is rare. Aconite (Wolfsbane). Misanthropy. Aconite, Crowfoot. Luster. Adonis, Flos. Sad memories. African Marigold. Vulgar minds. Agnus Castus. Coldness. Indifference. Agrimony. Thankfulness. Gratitude . Almond, Common. Stupidity. Indiscretion. Almond, Flowering. Hope. Almond, Laurel. Perfidy. Allspice.. Compassion. Aloe. . .. Grief. Religious Superstition. Bitterness. Althaea Frutex (Syrian Mallow). Persuasion. Alyssum, Sweet. Worth beyond beauty. Amaranth, Globe. Immortality. Unfading love. Amaranth (Cockscomb). Foppery. Affectation. Amaryllis. Pride. Timidity. Splendidbeauty. Ambrosia. Love returned. American Cowslip. Divine beauty. 325 226 FLORAL POESY. American Elm. Patriotism. American Linden . Matrimony. American Starwort. Welcome to a stranger. Cheer¬ fulness in old age. Amethyst . Admiration. Andromeda. Self-sacrifice. Anemone (Zephyr Flower). Sickness. Expectation. Anemone, Garden. Forsaken. Angelica. Inspiration, or Magic. Angrec. Royalty. Apocynum (Dogsbane). Deceit. Apple. Temptation. Apple Blossom. Preference. Fame speaks him great and good. Apple, Thorn. Deceitful charms. Apricot Blossom. Doubt. Arbor Vitae. Unchanging friendship. Live for Me. Arbutus. Thee only do Hove. Arum (Wake Robin) . Ardor. Zeal. Ash-leaved Trumpet Flower... .Separation. Ash, Mountain. Prudence, or With me you arc safe. Ash Tree. Grandeur. Aspen Tree. Lamentation, or Fear. Aster (China)..*.. Variety. After-thought. Asphodel.. My regrets follow you to the grave. Auricula. Painting. Auricula, Scarlet. Avarice. Auricula, Yellow. Splendor. Autumnal Leaves. Melancholy. Azalea. Temperance. Bachelor’s Button. Celibacy. Balm. Sympathy. Balm, Gentle. Pleasantry. Balm of Gilead. Cure. Relief. Balsam, Red. Touch me not. Impatient re¬ solves. VOCABULARY. 227 Balsam, Yellow. Barberry .. . Basil. Bay Leaf. Bay (Rose) Rhododendron.... Bay Tree. Bay Wreath. Bearded Crepis.. Beech Tree. Bee Orchis. Bee Ophrys. Begonia. Belladonna . Bell Flower, Pyramidal. Bell Flower (small white). Belvedere. Betony. Bilberry. Bindweed, Great . Bindweed, Small. Bi rch. Birdsfoot (Trefoil). Bittersweet (Nightshade). Black Poplar. Blackthorn. Bladder Nut Tree. Bluebottle (Centaury). Bluebell. Blue-flowered Greek Valerian. Bonus Henricus. Borage. Box Tree. Bramble. Branch of Currants. Branch of Thorns. Bridal Rose. Broom. Browallia Jamisonii. Buckbean. Bud of White Rose. Impatience. Sharpness of temper. Hatred. I change but in death. Danger. Beware. Glory. Reward of merit. Protection. Prosperity. Industry. Error. Deformity. Silence. Hush / Constancy. Gratitude. I declare against you. Surprise. Treachery. Insinuation. Importunity. Humility. Meekness. Revenge. Truth. Courage. Affliction. Difficulty. Frivolity. Amusement. Delicacy. Constancy. Sorrowful regret. . Rupture. Goodness. Bluntness. Stoicism. Lowliness. Envy. Remorse. Tou please all. Severity. Rigor. Happy love. Humility. Neatness. Could you bear poverty ? Calm repose. A heart ignorant of love. 228 FLORAL POESY. Buglos. Falsehood. Bulrush. Indiscretion. Docility. Bundle of Reeds, with their Pa¬ nicles . Music. Burr. Burdock. Buttercup (Kingcup). Buttercups. Butterfly Orchis. Butterfly Weed. Cabbage . Cacalia. Cactus. C'alla ^Ethiopica. Calceolaria. or I offer you my fortune. Calycanthus. Camellia Japonica, Red. . . . .... Unpretending excellence. Camellia, White. Campanula Pyramida. Cam phi re. Canary Grass. Candytuft. . :. Canterbury Bell. Cape Jasmine. Cardamine. .. Carnation, Deep Red. Carnation, Striped. - Refusal. Carnation, Yellow. Cardinal Flower. Catch fly. Catch fly, Red. Catclifly, White. Cattleya. Cattleya, Pineli. Cedar. Cedar of Lebanon. _ Incorruptible. Cedar Leaf. Celandine, Lesser. VOCABULARY. 229 Cereus, Creeping. Modest genius. Centaury. Delicacy. Chamomile. Energy in adversity . Champignon . Suspicion. Checkered Fritillary. Persecution. Cherry Tree, White. Good education. Cherry Blossom. Insincerity. Chestnut Tree. Do me justice. Chinese Primrose. . Lasting love. Chick weed. 'Rendezvous. Chicory. Frugality. China Aster. Variety. China Aster, Double... , . I partake your sentiments. China Aster, Single. I icill think of it. China or Indian Pink. Aversion. China Rose. Beauty always new. Chinese Chrysanthemum. Cheerfulness under adversity. Chorozema Varium. You have many lovers. Christmas Rose. Relieve my anxiety. Chrysanthemum, Red. I love. Chrysanthemum, White. Truth. Chrysanthemum, Yellow. Slighted love. Cineraria. Always delightful. Cinquefoil. Maternal affection. Circsea.. .. Spell. Cistus, or Rock Rose.. Popular favor. Cistus, Gum. I shall die to-morrow. Citron. Ill-natured beauty. Clarkia. The variety of your conversation delights me. Clematis. Mental beauty. Artifice. Clematis, Evergreen. Poverty. Clianthus. Worldliness. Self-seeking. Clotbur. Rudeness. Pertinacity. Cloves... Dignity. Clover, Four-leaved. Be mine. Clover, Red.. Industry. Clover, White.. Think of me. Promise. Cobsea. Gossip. 230 FLORAL POESY. Cockscomb (Amaranth). .Foppery. Affectation. Singu- larity. Colchicum, or Meadow Saffron. . My best days are past. Coltsfoot. . Justice shall be done. Columbine. . Folly. Columbine, Purple. . Resolved to win. Columbine, Red. . Anxious and trembling. Convolvulus. . Bonds. Convolvulus Bl., Minor... ... .Repose, Night. Convolvulus Major. .Extinguished hopes. Convolvulus, Pink. . Worth sustainedby judicious and tender affection. Corchorus. .Impatient of absence. Coreopsis. .Always cheerful. Coreopsis Ark ansa. . Love at first sight. Coriander. .Hidden worth. Corn. . Riches. Corn, Broken. .Quarrel. Corn Bottle .. . Delicacy. Corn Cockle. .. Gentility. Cornflower. . Delicacy. Corn Straw. . .Agreement. Cornel Tree. .Duration. Coronella. .. Success crown your wishes. Cosmelia Subra. . ,. The charm of a blush. Cowslip. .Pensiveness. Winning grace. • Youthful beauty. Cowslip (American) . . .Divine beauty. Crab (Blossom). .. Ill nature. Cranberry. . . .Cure for heartache. Creeping Cereus. .. Horror. Cress. . .Stability. Power. Crocus. . . . .Abuse not. Impatience. Crocus, Spring. . . Youthful gladness. Crocus (Saffron). . .Mirth. Cheerfulness, Crown Imperial. . .Majesty. Power. Crowsbill. .. Envy. Crowfoot. . .Ingratitude. Crowfoot (Aconite-leaved). . . . . . Luster Cuckoo Plant... .. • . .Ardor. VOCABULARY. 231 Cudweed, American Currant. Cuscuta. Cyclamen. Cypress. Unceasing remembrance. Thy frown will kill me. Meanness. Diffidence. Death. Mourning. Daffodil . Regard. Unrequited love. dahlia. Instability. Pomp. Dais 7. Innocence and Hope. Daisy, Garden./ share your sentiments. Daisy, Michaelmas. Farewell, or Afterthought. Daisy, Parti-colored. Beauty. Daisy, Wild. I will think of it. Damask Rose. Brilliant complexion. Dandelion. Rustic oracle. Dandelion, or Thistle-seed-head Depart. Daphne. Daphne Odora Darnel. Dead Leaves., Deadly Nightshade. Dew Plant. Dianthus. Diosma. Dipteracanthus Spectabilis Diplademia Crassinoda.... Dittany of Crete. Dittany of Crete, White... Dock. Dodder of Thyme. Dogsbane. Dogwood. Dragon Plant. Dragon wort Dried Flax. Glory. Immortality. Painting the lily. Vice. Sadness. Falsehood. A serenade. Make haste. Your simple elegance charms me. Fortitude. You are too bold. Birth. Passion. Patience. Baseness. Deceit. Falsehood . Durability. Snare. Horror. Utility. Ebony Tree. Blackness. Echites Atropurpurea. Be warned in time. Eglantine (Sweetbrier). Poetry. T wound to heal. Elder. Zealousness. 232 FLORAL POESY. Elm. Enchanter's Nightshade .. . Endive. Esclischoltzia. Eupatori um. Evening Primrose. Ever-bowing Candytuft. . .. Evergreen Clematis. Evergreen Thorn. Everlasting... Everlasting Pea. Fennel. Fern. Ficoides (Ice Plant). Fig. Fig Marigold. Fig Tree. Filbert . .. Fir. Fir Tree. Flax. . . Flax-leaved Golden-locks . Fleur-de-Lis. . Fleur-de-Luce. Flowering Fern. Flowering Reed. Flower-of-an-Hour. Fly Orchis. Flytrap... Fool’s Parsley.. Forget-me-not. Foxglove . Foxtail grass. Franciscea Latifolia. French Honeysuckle. French Marigold. French Willow. Frog Oplirys. Diijnity. Witchcraft. Sorcery Frugality. Do not refuse me. Delay. Silent love. Indifference. Poverty. Solace in adversity. Never-ceasing remembrance » Lasting pleasure. Worthy all praise. Strength. Fascination. Magic. Sincerity. Your looks freeze me. Argument. Idleness. Prolific. Reconciliation. Time. Elevation. Domestic industry. Fate. I feci your kindness. , Tardiness. Flame. I burn. Fire. Reverie. Confidence in Heaven, Delicate beauty Error. Deceit. ■ Silliness. Forget me not. Insincerity. Sporting. Beware of false friends. Rustic beauty. Jealousy. Bravery and Humanity. Disgust. VOCABULARY. 23S' Fuller’s Teasel. Fumitory. Fuchsia, Scarlet. ... Furze, or Gorse.. Garden Anemone. Garden Chervil. Garden Daisy. Garden Marigold. Garden Ranunculus. Garden Sage. Garland of Roses.. Gardenia. Gentian.. Germander Speedwell ... Geranium. Geranium, Dark. Geranium, Horseshoe-leaf Geranium, Ivy. Geranium, Lemon. Geranium, Nutmeg. Geranium, Oak-leaved.... Geranium, Penciled. Geranium, Rose-scented.. Geranium, Scarlet. Geranium, Silver leaved. Geranium, Wild. Gillyflower. Gladioli. Glory Flower. Goat’s Rue. Golden Rod.. Gooseberry. Gourd. Grammanthus Chloraflora. Grape, Wild . Grass. Guelder Rose. Misanthropy. Spleen. Taste. Love for all seasons. Anger. Forsaken. Sincerity. 1 partake your sentiments. Uneasiness. You are rich in attractions. Esteem. Reward of virtue. Refinement. I love you best when you are sad. Facility. Deceit. Melancholy. Stupidity. Bridal Favor. Unexpected meeting. Expected meeting. True f riendship. Ingenuity. Preference. Comforting. Recall. Steadfast piety. Bonds of affection. Ready armed. Glorious beauty. Reason. Precaution. Anticipation. Extent. Bulk. Your temper is too hasty. Charity. Submission. Utility. Winter. Age. Hand Flower Tree Warning. 234 FLORAL POESf. Harebell . Submission. Grief. . *. (juiclc~sightedness. Hawthorn . • • • - Slope. jj aze ]. Reconciliation. Heartsease, or Pansy .• • Thoughts. Heath. Solitude. Helenium . Tears. Heliotrope . Devotion ; or, 1 turn to thee. Hellebore . Scandal. Calumny. Helmet Flower (Monkshood) - Knight-errantry. Hemlock . Tou will be my death. Hemp . Sate. Henbane . Imperfection. Hepatica . Confidence. Hibiscus . Delicate beauty. Holly .,. Foresight. Holly Herb . Enchantment. Hollyhock . Ambition. Fecundity. Honesty .. Honesty. Fascination. Honey Flower . Love sweet and secret. Honeysuckle . Generous and devoted affection. Honeysuckle, Coral . The color of my fate. Honeysuckle, French . Rustic beauty. Hop . Injustice. Hornbeam . Ornament. Horse Chestnut . Luxury. Hortensia . Tou are cold. Houseleek . Vivacity. Domestic industry. Houstonia. Content. Hoya . Sculpture. Hoyabella . Contentment. Humble Plant . Despondency. Iiundred-leaved Rose . Dignity of mind. Hyacinth ..... . Sport. Game. Flay. Hyacinth, Purple . Sorrowful. I am soiiy. Hvacinth, White . Unobtrusive loveliness. Hydrangea . A boaster. Hyssop.... Cleanliness . Iceland Moss. Health. VOCABULARY. 235 - ■ Ice Plant. . . . Your looks freeze me. Jmbricata. ... Uprightness. Sentiments of honor. Imperial Montague. . . .Power. Indian Cress . ... Warlike trophy. Indian Jasmine (Ipomcea) . . . .. .Attachment. Indian Pink (double). .. .Always lovely. Indian Plum. . . .Privation. Iris. ... Message. iris, German. Ivy. .. .Friendship. Fidelity. Marriage „ Ivy, Sprig of, with Tendrils. .. .Assiduous to please. Jacob’s Ladder. .. .Come down. Japan Rose. .. .Beauty is your only attraction. Japanese Lilies. .. .You cannot deceive me. Jasmine. ... Amiability. Jasmine, Cape. .. . Transport of joy. Jasmine, Carolina. ... Separation. Jasmine, Indian. . .. 1 attach myself to you. Jasmine, Spanish. ... Sensuality. Jasmine, Yellow. ... Grace and elegance. - Jonquil. . .. I desire a return of affection. Judas Tree. .. . Unbelief. Betrayed. Julienne, White. .. Despair not; God is everywhere. Juniper. ...Succor. Protection. Justicia . . .. The perfection of femede loveliness. Kennedia. ... Mental beauty. Kingcups. ... Desire of riches. Laburnum . .. Forsaken. Pensive beauty. Lady’s Slipper. ... Capricious beaidy. Win me and wear me. Lagerstraemia, Indian . .. . Eloquence. Lantana. Lapageria Rosea. . .. . Rigor. .. There is no unalloyed good. Larch. .. .Audacity. Boldness. Larkspur. .. .Lightness. Levity. Larkspur, Pink. ... Fickleness. 236 FLORAL POESY. Larkspur, Purple. Laurel. Laurel, Common, iu flower Laurel, Ground. Laurel, Mountain. Laurel-leaved Magnolia. . . Laurestina. Lavender. Leaves (dead). Lemon. Lemon Blossoms. Leschenaultia Splendens.. Lettuce. Lichen. Lilac, Field. Lilac, Purple. Lilac, White. Lily, Day. Lily, Imperial. Lily, White. Lily, Yellow. Lily of the Valley. Linden or Lime Trees. Lint. Live Oak. Liverwort. Liquorice, Wild... Lobelia. . Locust Tree. Locust Tree (green). London Pride. Lote Tree . Lotus. Lotus Flower. Lotus Leaf. Love-in-a-Mist. Love-1 ies-bleeding. Lucerne .. Lupin. Haughtiness. , Glory. . Perfidy. Perseverance. .Ambition. .Dignity. A token. . Distrust. . Melancholy. . Zest. . Fidelity in Love. . You are charming. . Cold-heartedness. . Dejection. Solitude. . Humility. . First emotions of love. Joy of youth. . Coquetry. . Majesty. .Purity. Sweetness. Falsehood. Gayty. .Return of happiness. Uncon¬ scious sweetness. . Conjugal love. . I feel my obligations. . Liberty. . Confidence. . L declare against you. . Malevolence. . Elegance. .Affection beyond the grave. . Frivolity. . Concord. Eloquence. Repose. . Estranged love. .Recantation. .Perplexity. .Hopeless, not heartless , . Life. . Voraciousness, VOCABULARY. 237 Madder. Magnolia. Magnolia, Swamp.. Mallow. Mallow, Marsh. Mallow, Syrian. Mallow, Venetian. Malon Creeana. Manchineal Tree. Mandrake. Maple. Mariantlius. Marigold. Marigold, African. Marigold, French. Marigold, Prophetic . Marigold and Cypress. Marjoram. Marvel of Peru. Meadow Lychnis. Meadow Saffron. Meadowsweet. Mercury. Mesembryanthemum.. Mezereon. Michaelmas Daisy. Mignonnette... Milfoil. Milkvetch. Milkwort. Mimosa (Sensitive Plant). Mint. Mistletoe. Mitraria Coccinea. Mock Orange. Monarda Amplexicaulis. Monkshood. Monkshood (Helmet Flower)... Moon wort. ... Calumny. ... Love of nature. Magnificence. .. Perseverance. ■.. Mildness. . .Beneficence. ■ Consumed by love. .. Delicate beauty. ■. Will you share my fortunes ? . .Falsehood. .. Horror. ■. Reserve. .. Hope for better days. .. Grief. . Vulgar minds. .. Jealousy. ■. Prediction. .. Despair. .. Blushes. .. Timidity. . Wit. .. My best days are past. .. Uselessness. ■ Goodness. ■ Idleness. . Desire to please. . After-thought. . Your qualities surpass your charms. . War. . Your presence softens my pains. . Hermitage. . Sensitiveness. . Virtue. ■ I surmount difficulties. . Indolence. Dullness. ■ Counterfeit. . Your whims are quite unbearable . ■ A deadly foe is near. . Chivalry. Knight-errantry. . Forgetfulness. 238 FLORAL POESY. Morning Glory. Affectation. Moschatel. Weakness. .. Maternal love. Mosses. Ennui. Mossy Saxifrage. Affection. Motherwort. Concealed love. Mountain Ash. Prudence. Mourning Bride. Unfortunate attachment. I have lost all. Mouse-eared Chickweed. Ingenuous simplicity. Mouse-eared Scorpion Grass- Forget me not. Moving Plant. Mudwort. Mulberry Tree, Black. Mulberry Tree, White Mushroom. Musk Plant. Mustard Seed. Myrobalan. Myrrh. Myrtle. Agitation. Happiness. Tranquillity. I shall not survive you. . Wisdom. , Suspicion j or, I can t entirely trust you. . Weakness. .Indifference. . Privation. . Gladness. .Love. Narcissus. Nasturtium. Nemophila. Nettle, Common Stinging Nettle, Burning. Nettle Tree. Night-blooming Cereus .. Night Convolvulus. Nightshade. . Egotism. . Patriotism. . Success everywhere. . Ton are spiteful. . Slander. . Conceit. . Transient beauty. . Night. . Falsehood. Oak Leaves.. Oak Tree. Oak, White. Oats. Oleander. Olive. Orange Blossoms, Bravery. Hospitality. Independence. The witching soul of music. . Beware. . Peace. Your purity equals your loveliness , 00 A T?T t T, A T? Tr . 230 Orange Flow-™. Chastity. Bridal festivities. Orange tree. Generosity. Orchis. A belle. Osier.. . Frankness. Osmunda. Dreams. Ox Eye.. Patience. Oxlip. Speak out. Palm. Pansy . Parsley. Pasque Flower. Passion Flower. Patience Dock. . Pea, Everlasting Pea, Sweet. . . Peach. Peach Blossom. Pear. Pear-tree. Pentstemon Azureum Pennyroyal. Peony... Peppermint. Periwinkle, Blue.... Periwinkle, White. . Persicaria. Persimmon. Peruvian Heliotrope . Petunia. Pheasant’s Eye. Phlox. Pigeon Berry. Pimpernel. Pine. Pine-apple. . Victory. . Thought. . Festivity. To win. ■ You have no claims. .Religious superstition when the flower is reversed or Faith if erect. .Patience. . An appointed meeting. Lasting pleasure. .Departure. . Your qualities , like your charms, are unequaled. . I am your captive. . Affection. . Comfort. .High-bred. . Flee away. Shame. Bashfulness. ■ Warmth of feeling. . Early f riendship. ■ Pleasures of memory. . Restoration. .Bury me amid Nature’s beauties. . Devotion. Your presence soothes me. . Remembrance. Unanimity. Indifference. Change. Assignation. Pity. You are perfect. 240 FLORAL POESY. Pine, Pitch. Philosophy. Pine, Spruce. Hope in adversuy. ... Boldness. Pink, Carnation. Woman’s love. Pink, Indian Double. Always lovely. Pink, Indian Single. Aversion. Pink, Mountain. Aspiring. Pink, Red Double. Pure and ardent love. Pink, Single. Pure love. Pink, Variegated. Refusal. Pink White. Ingeniousness. Talent. Plantain. White man’s footsteps. Plane Tree. . Genius. Plum, Indian. Privation. Plum Tree. Fidelity. Plum, Wild. Independence. Plumbago Larpenta. Holy wishes. Polyanthus. Pride of riches. Polyanthus, Crimson. The heart's mystery. Polyanthus, Lilac. .Confidence. Pomegranate. .... Foolishness. Pomegranate Flower . Mature elegance. Poor Robin. Compensation, or an Equivalent. Poplar, Black.» Courage. Poplar, White. Time. Poppy, Red. Consolation. Poppy, Scarlet. Fantastic extravagance. Poppy, White. Sleep. My bane. Potato. Benevolence. Potentilla. I claim, at least, your esteem Prickly Pear. Satire. Pride of China. Dissension. Primrose. Early youth and sadness. Primrose, Evening. Inconstancy. Primrose, Red. Unpatronized merit Privet. Prohibition. Purple Clover. Provident. Pyrus Japonica. Fairies fire. Quaking-Grass , Agitation. VOCABULARY. 241 Quamoclit. Busybody. Queen’s Rocket. You are the queen of coquettes. Fashion. Quince. . . Temptation. Ragged-Robin. Ranunculus. Ranunculus, Garden.. .. Ranunculus, Wild. Raspberry. . ... Ray Grass.. Red Catclifiy. Reed. Reed, Split. Rhododendron (Rosebay) Rhubarb. Rocket,. Rosa Mundi. Rose, Austrian. Rose, Bridal.. Rose, Burgundy. Rose, Cabbage. Rose Campion. Rose, Caroline. Rose, China. Rose, Christmas. Rose, Daily. Rose, Damask.. . . Rose, Deep Red. Rose, Dog. Rose, Guelder. Rose, Hundred-leaved.. Rose, Japan. Rose, Maiden-blush. Rose, Montiflora. Rose, Musk. Rose, Musk, Cluster.... Rose, Red. Rose, Single. Rose, Thornless. 11 Wit. You are radiant with charms. You are rich in attractions. Ingratitude. Remorse. Vice. Youthful love. . Complaisance. Music. .Indiscretion. .Banger. Beware. Advice. .Rivalry. . Variety. . Thou art all that is lovely. . Happy love. . Unconscious beauty. .Ambassador of love. . Only deserve my love. . Love is dangerous. .Beauty always new. . Tranqitilize my anxiety. . Thy smile I aspire to. . Brilliant com plexion. Bashful shame. . Love, pleasure, and pain. . Winter. Age. .Pride. .Beauty is your only attraction. .If you love me you will find it out. . Grace. Capricious beauty. Charming. . Love. Simplicity. . Early attachment. 242 floral poesy. Rose, Unique. Rose, White. Rose, White (withered . . Rose, Yellow. Rose, York and Lancaster. Rose, Full-blown, placed two Buds. Call me not beautiful. I am worthy of you. Transient impressions. Decrease of love. Jealousy, War.