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41

4t

I, lovely flow'rs, my ever faithful friends

Ye are the fweeteft poetry of earth,
Ye are the dim forefhadowings of heav'n,

bright angels fhower'd from the realms

above,

To

A
Ye

give us a faint picture of their home,

gleam of

its

ne'er-fading lovelinefs.

we roam
welcome us
We inadvertently may tread on you,
And yet you gently raife your trembling heads,
kifs

our footfteps wherefoe'er

Ever with

And
And

fweeteft fmiles ye

with the fame fweet fmile look on our face,

breathe a richer perfume in return

lefTons may we learn from you,

open books, bright with the light of God

Oh, what deep

Ye

P. V.

Gordon de Montgomery.

mm

WOMAN'S

love, deep in the heart,

Is like the violet flower,

.That

lifts its modeft head apart

In fome fequefter'd bower.

And

bleft

Who
He

is

he

lips its

heeds not

Nor

all

who

And

life's

is

rock

like the

ftands fecure amidft the fhock

bleft is

Within

The

oppreflive gloom,

every tempeft braves,

Of ocean's

And

bloom,

the care he meets.

A woman's love
That

finds that

gentle fweets

its

wildeft

he to

made

world, with

Seems

lefs like

waves

whom
is

repofe

given

all its cares

and woes,

earth than heaven.

Anon.

The

violet

is

for faithfulnefs.

Shakespeare.

ELCOME, pale

primrofe, ftarting

up

between

Dead matted

leaves of afh

and oak,

that ftrew

The

very lawn, the

wood and

'Mid creeping mofs and

ivy's

fpinney through,

darker green

How much thy prefence beautifies the

How fweet thy modeft unaffected pride

ground

Glows on the funny bank and wood's warm fide.

And when thy fairy flowers in groups are found,

The

fchoolboy roves enchantingly along,

Plucking the

While

faireft

with a rude delight

meek fhepherd flops his fimple

To gaze a moment on the fimple fight,
the

Overjoyed to

fee the flowers that truly

The welcome news

fong,

bring

of fweet returning fpring

Clare.

The flowers are Nature's jewels, with whofe wealth

She decks her fummer beauty primrofe fweet,
With bloflbms of pure gold enchanting rofe,
;

That

like a virgin

queen

falutes the fun,

Dew-diadem'd.

Geo. Croly.

HE

rofe

is

The rofe
But ah

To
1

many

It tells full

red, the rofe

it

it

blooms

is

white,

fummer light

in

mufe upon

its

hiftory

a woeful tale

Of hearts made cold, of cheeks made

Of love's fad figh, the widow's wail,
In days of
Sweet freedom,

That

The
The

ftrife

strife

may

and chivalry

pale,

the age prevail,

no more

may

be.

white,

rofe

is

red, the rofe

rofe

is

pleasant to the fight

is

Now both its hues in one unite,

To crown the brows of royalty.
Strife

took the white rofe for

But Concord placed

Where

it

its creft,

in her breaft,

it blufhed upon her veft,

weed the tree of liberty
And while it blooms as freedom's gueft,
There let it ever be.

deep

To

Clare.

mm
4f

clouds the heart's delight

HERE

is

little

flower that's found

In almoft every garden-ground,

'Tis lowly, but

And
Upon

if its

name

'tis

fweet

exprefs

its

power,

this earth a choicer flower

You'll never, never meet.

No, not the wealth of Chili's mine,

Dear flow'ret, may compare with thine
For thee I'd give it all
But if the wealthy will not bear
Thy modeft charms in their parterre,

Grow

'neath

my

garden wall.

garden-ground 5
Perhaps in Eden 'twas not found,
For there it was not wanted
I faid, in every

But foon

Thy

By

He
It

took

is

as fin

mercy's angel planted.

its

azure from the fky

the hue of conftancy,

And
With

To

and forrow came,

its gladdening name,

flower received

conftant

mould our

faith be

that he mingled fplendid gold,

fhow

that, if our faith

We fhall

we

hold,

be crowned with glory.

Miss Bowles.

IN

Springes green lap there blooms a

^>
That
Clad

flower,
f

Whofe cup
mower

lips frefh

imbibes each vernal

Nature's balmy dew,

in her fweeteft, pureft blue

Yet fhuns

the ruddy eye of morning,

The

fhaggy wood's brown (hades adorning.

Simple flow'ret! child of May!
Though hid from the broad gaze of day,

Doom'd
Still

in the

made thy

fweets to fhed,

Nature's darling thou'lt remain

She feeds thee with her

fofteft rain,

bud with honey'd tears,

With genial gales thy bofom cheers
Fills each

Ah, then, unfold thy fimple charms

In yon deep thicket's circling arms,
Far from the fierce and fultry glare,

No

heedlefs

Still,

hand mail harm thee there

gaudy fcene,

then, avoid the

The

flaunting fun, th' embroider'd green,

And

bloom and

fade, with chafte referve, unfeen.

Caroline Symmons.

1^

the curious eye

little

monitor prefents her page

Of choice

infl.ruc~t.ion,

with her fnov\y

bells,

The
The

lily

of the vale.

She not

affects

public walk, nor gaze of mid-day fun

She to no

ftate or

But

and alone puts on her

filent

And

dignity afpires,
fuit,

fheds a lafting perfume, but for

which
had not known there was a thing lb fweet
Hid in the gloomy made. So, when the blaft
Her lifter tribes confound, and to the earth
Stoop their high heads that vainly were expofed,

We

She

feels

it

not but flourifhes anew,

Still fheltered

That makes

The humble
That make

We

lefl'er

and fecure.

And

the high elm couch,

lily fpares,

the lofty

and rends the oak,

a thoufand blows

monarch on

folk feel not.

Keen

Advancement often brings.

Be humble to be happy, be
j

as the ftorm,

his throne,

are the pains

To

be fecure

content.

Jaques de Lille.

Far from the hum and the noify toil

Of a city's endlefs ftrife,
The flowers with gentle pathos fpeak
Of a holier, happier life.
Ellen Ogier.

; ;

^ajBatfrwujts aniijftnisifs/^
NEVER

young hand hold

bunch of white and gold,
But fomething warm and frefh will ftart

The

About

My

fee a

ftarry

the region of

fmile expires into a figh

I feel a ftruggling in

my

my

heart;

eye,

'Twixt humid drop and fparkling

Till rolling tears have

For

foul

and brain

won

their

will travel

ray,

way

back

Through memory's checkered mazes,

To days when I but trod life's track
For Buttercups and

Daifies.

There feems a bright and fairy fpell

About their very names to dwell
And though old Time has mark'd my brow
With care and thought, I love them now.
Smile, if you will, but fome heart- ftrings

Are

And

clofeft link'd to fimpleft

things

Till love, and

And when

life,

and

all

the only wifh

Is that the

one

who

mine

thefe wild flowers will hold

faff,

be paft

have

raifes

The turf fod o'er me, plant my grave

With Buttercups and Daifies.
Eliza Cooke.

UR

fweet autumnal weftern-fcented wind

Robs of its odour none fo fweet

In

all

As

blooming wafte

the

it left

that fweet-brier yields

it,

a flower,

behind,

and the

fhower

Wets not a rofe that buds

One half fo lovely yet

bower
grows along
pathway, by the poor man's door.
;

The

poor

girl's

in beauty's

it

Such are the fimple folks

And humble as the bud,
I love

Not

it,

for

it

takes

its

it

fo

among,
humble be the fong.

dwells

untouch'd ftand

in the vafe that fculptors decorate

Its fweetnefs 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 odours of the fpicy Eaft.

You love your flowers and plants, and will you

The little four-leaved rofe that I love beft,
That

frefheft will

awake, and fweeteft go to

mi
hate

reft

Brainard.

Crush

not the flower while yet

it

blooms,

Nor caft in fcorn its fweets away,

That breathe around fuch fweet perfumes,
But with its love fliall foon decay.

gaily in life's morning bright

Love fpeeds the rofy hours,

Illumes each fcene with fmiling light,

And
Around

young Hope and Joy

his fhrine

Their

faireft gifts

Nor doubts can

The

ftrews each fpot with flowers.

impart

chill,

nor

fears deftroy

funfhine of the heart.

Thofe

flowers will droop, the beams muft wane,

But, when their glories ceafe,

A fofter fpell will

To

ftill

remain

foothe the foul to peace.

For then

(hall friendftiip's tranquil rays

A hallow'd charm impart,

And

caft o'er life's

declining days

All joyfulnefs of heart.

From

the

Forget-me-not.

JS3

HOU

fweet

little

flower with the bright

blue eye,

That

peepeft from the

Thou

And

art

come from

bank

fo modeftly,

a fource invifible,

thou haft fome important words to

Thou

art

come

like the

"

fmall voice of

ftill,

Who whifpers His truth in evening dim

Who mines in the ftars in azure fky,
And gems
Thou

art

Who

tell.

Him""

the dark world with piety.

come

as a

warning

are carelefs of time as

to

it

wandering

fouls,

fwiftly rolls,

And

forgetful of God, who upholds their

But who whifpers thee, Forget-me-not.

lot,

Thou art come as a gift from a Friend llncere,

Whofe dwelling is nVd in the heavenly fphere,
But whofe

And

Thou
From

To

Spirit

is

with us

the voice of whofe

art

come

to repeat

in

works

every fpot,
is,

Forget-me-not.

an alTurance of love

that changelefs Friend in the manfions above;

the foul that loves Chrift in fincerity

roam the

feas,

Some king

give new-found

or conqueror's

We rear on earth
And

We foar to

triumphal

and

to outlive

Our life's contracted fpan,

Unto the glorious ftars we give

The names

of mortal man.

Then may not one poor flow'ret's bloom

The holier memory fhare
Of Him, who to avert our doom,
Vouchfafed our

fins to

bear

God dwelleth not in temples reared

By works of human hands
$

Yet

fhrines auguft,

Are found

And may

by men

Whofe
Its

Then

revered,

in Chriftian lands.

not e'en a fimple flower

Proclaim His glorious

fiat

praife,

only had the power

form from earth

to raife

freely let thy bloITom

ope

Its beauties, to recall

A fcene which bids the humble hope

In

Him who

died for

piles,

meeds of earthly fame

heaven

ifles

name

all

B.

Barton.

ii

Mr

Sot^BilKsoftteTiflti
O, the

lilies

of the

field,

How

their leaves inftruclion yield

Hark

to nature's leflbn given

y the bleffed birds of heaven

Every bum and tufted tree
Warbles fweet philofophy.
Mortal, flee from doubt and forrow,

God

provideth for the morrow

Say, with richer crimfon glows

The

kingly mantle or the rofe

Say, have kings more wholefome fare

Than we

poor citizens of

air

Barns nor hoarded grain have we,

Yet we

carol merrily

Mortal,

flee

God

from doubt and forrow,

provideth for the

morrow

One

there lives whofe guardian eye

Guides our humble deftiny
One there lives, who, lord of all,
:

Keeps our feathers left they fall.

Pafs we blithely then the time,
Fearlefs of the mare and lime,
Free from doubt and faithlefs forrow

God

provideth for the

morrow

Bishop Herbert.

OT worlds on
Need we

The

Daify

worlds

phalanx deep,

in

to prove a

God

is

here

from winter's fleep

Tells of His hands in lines as clear.
frefh

For who but He that archM the

And

Wondrous
Could

Mould

alike in all

tries,

its

bud

green cup,

its wiry ftem

border nicely fpin,

cut the gold-embofled gem,

That

Then

He

rear the Daify's purple

Its fringed

And

flues

pours the day-fpring's living flood,

let in filver

fling

O'er

hill

it,

gleams within

unreftrainM and

and

dale,

free,

and defert fod,

That man, where'er he walks, may

In every ftep the ftamp of God.
J.

fee

M. Good.

ELCOME,
To

mild harbinger of fpring

nook of earth

this fmall

Feeling and fancy fondly cling

Round thoughts which owe

To

thee,

and

to the

Where

chance has

To

for thy

thee

Like heaven's

humble

nVd

rich,

fair

their birth

fpot

thy lowly

lot.

golden bloom,

bow on

high,

Portends, amid furrounding gloom,

That

When

brighter days draw nigh,

bloffoms of more varied dyes

warmer

Shall ope their tints to

Yet not

the

Though
Can more

lily,

nor the

fairer far

fkies.

rofe,

they be,

delightful thoughts difclofe,

Than I derive from thee

The eye their beauty may prefer
The heart is thy interpreter
5

Thine

is

the flower of hope, whofe hue

Is bright with

The

For ruin

And

coming joy

wall-flower's that of faith too true

to deftroy

where, oh, where, fhould hope upfpring

But under

faith's protecting

wing

B. Barton.

Hiitorrs

LOWERS

of the clofing year

Ye bloom amid decay,

And come, like friends iincere,

IS

When wintry ftorms appear,

And all have pafs'd away,

I35

That

clothed gay Spring's luxuriant bowers

With

garlands meet for funny hours.

The

harebell bright

That

and blue,

loves the dingle wild,

In whofe cerulean hue

Heaven's

On

How

own

blelt tint

we view,

days ferene and mild

beauteous, like an azure gem,

Hem

She droopeth from her graceful

The foxglove's purple bell

On bank and upland plain
The fcarlet pimpernel,

And

On

daify in the dell,

That kindly blooms

When

all

her

fitters

again,

of the Spring

earth's cold lap are withering.

The

bineweed, pure and pale,

That fues to all for aid

And, when rude rtorms aflail,
Her fnowy virgin-veil
;

Doth,

like

fome timid maid,

In confcious weaknefs moft fecure,

Unfcathed

its llerneft

16

mocks endure.
Agnes Strickland.

^ ^<
'

EE

the Honeyfuckle twine

Round
Pg^l Where

And

this

cafementj

'tis

a fhrine

the heart doth incenfe give,

the pure affections live

In the mother's gentle breaft,

By

her fmiling infant prefTd.

Bleffed fhrine

home

dear, blifsful

Source whence happinefs doth come

Round by

the cheerful hearth do meet

All things beauteous,

Ev'ry folace of man's

Mother, daughter,
England,

ifle

all

things fweet

life,

fifter,

wife.

of free and brave,

Circled by the Atlantic wave,

Though we feek the faireft land

That the fouth wind ever fann'd
Yet we cannot hope to fee
Homes fo holy as in thee.

As

the tortoife turns his head

Towards

its

Howfoever

From

its

native ocean bed,

far

own

it

be

beloved fea,

Thus, dear Albion, evermore

Do we

turn to feek thy more.

Countess of Blessingtow

Us

Mil
[KE

pendant flakes of vegetating fnow,

The
,

early herald of the infant year,

Ere yet the adventurous crocus dares to

blow,

Beneath the orchard boughs thy buds appear.

While

ftill

And
Or

the cold north-ealt. ungenial lours,

fcarce the hazel in the leaflefs copfe,

fallows (how their

The

grafs

Yet when

To

is

downy powdered

spangled with thy

filver

flowers,

drops.

thofe pallid bloflbms fhall give place

and fcent,
Summer's gay blooms, and autumn's yellow race,
countlefs tribes, of richer hue

I mail

thy pale inodorous bells lament.

So journeying onwards in
Ev'n while warm youth

Fond memory

To

life's
its

varied track,

bright illufion lends,

often with regret looks back

childhood's pleafures, and to infant friends.

Charlotte Smith.

Lovely

flowers are the fmiles of

God's goodnefs.

W ILBERFOR.CE.

if

IEN

with a ferious mufing

The

grateful and obfequious Marigold,

behold

How

N^AM

duly every morning (he difplays

open breaft when Titan fpreads his
How fhe obferves him in his daily walk,
[rays
Still bending towards him her fmall, (lender ftallc
How, when he down declines, fhe droops and mourns,

^ Her

BedewM

as 'twere with tears,

And how
As
By

if fhe

till

fhe veils her flowers

he returns

when he

is

gone,

fcorned to be looked on

an inferior eye

or did

contemn

To wait upon a meaner light than him

When thus I meditate, methinks the flowers
:

Have

fpirits far

more generous than

ours,

And give us fair examples, to defpife

The fervile fawnings and idolatries
Wherewith we

Which
But,

court thefe earthly things below,

merit not the fervice

O my God,

Upon

we

bellow.

though grovelling

my

the ground, yet in

appear

defire

To that which is above me, I afpire

And all my beft afFeclions I profels
To Him that is the Sun of Righteoufnefs.
j

Oh keep the morning of His incarnation,

The burning noontide of His bitter paflion,
The night of His defcending, and the height
Of His afcenfion, ever in my light
That imitating r Him in what I may,
!

never follow an inferior way.

i

George Wither.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

field flowers
'tis

the gardens eclipfe you,

true,

Yet, wildlings of Nature,

you
For ye waft me

doat upon

to

fummers of

old,

When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight,

And when dairies and buttercups gladdened my fight,
Like treafures of

filver

and gold.

I love you for lulling me back into dreams

Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing frreams,

And
While

And

of broken glades breathing their balm

Made
Not

was feen glancing in funfhine remote,

the deep mellow crufh of the woodpigeon's note,
the deer

mufic that fweeten'd the calm.

a paftoral fong has a pleafanter tune

Than you fpeak to my heart, little wildlings of June,

Of old ruinous caftles ye tell
Where I thought it delightful your beauties to find
When the magicof Nature firft breathed on my mind,

And

your bloffoms were part of her

Even now what

What

loved

Can

affections the violet

little islands,

fpell.

awakes

twice feen in the lakes,

the wild water-lily reftore

What landfcapes I read in the primrofe's looks,

And what picluies of pebbled and minnowy brooks,
In the vetches that tangled their more

Campbell.

Mkt

Jlunflotaw

AGLE of flowers!
And
With

on the

I fee thee ftand,

fun's

noon glory gaze

eye like his thy lids expand,

And fringe their difk with golden rays

Though

fixed

Light

thine element, thy dwelling air,

is

on earth,

Thy

in darknefs rooted there,

profpecl heaven.

So would mine eagle foul defcry,

Beyond the path where planets run,

The fplendour of Creation's

Though fprung from earth, and

fun

harVning to the tomb,

In hope a flower of paradife to bloom,

I look to heaven.

James Montgomery.

Flowers,

We

wherefore do ye bloom

ftrew thy

Flowers

pathway

to the

tomb.

are like the pleafures of the world.

Shakespeare.

Far from the hum and the noify toil

Of a city's endlefs ftrife,
The flowers with gentle pathos fpeak
Of a holier, happier life.
Ellen Ogier.

WANDERED
That

floats

When

lonely as a cloud

on high o'er vales and

all at

once

faw

hi lis,

crowd,

hoft of golden daffodils,

Befide the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous

And

as the ftars that

mine

twinkle on the milky way,

They ftretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of the bay
Ten thoufand faw I at a glance
:

Toiling their heads

The waves

befide

in fprightly dance.

them danced, but they

Outdid the fparkling waves

in glee

A poet could not but be gay,

In fuch a jocund company j
gazed but little thought
I gazed

What
For

wealth the

oft,

mow

to

me had

when on my couch

brought.

I lie,

In vacant or in penfive mood,

They flam upon that inward eye

Which is the blifs of folitude,
And then my heart with pleafure

And

fills,

dances with the daffodils.

Wordsworth.

HE

angel of the flowers one day

Beneath a

That

To

rofe tree fleeping lay,

fpirit to

whofe charge

given

is

bathe young buds in dews from

heaven

Awakening from

his light repofe,

The

angel whifper'd to the Rofe

"

fondeft object of

my

care,

found where all are fair,

For the fweet made thou gaveft to me,
Still faireft

Afk what thou wilt 'tis granted thee."

Then faid the Rofe, with deepening glow
" On me another grace beftow."
The Spirit paufed in filent thought,

What

grace was there that flower had not

'Twas but

A veil
And

moment o'er

the Rofe

of mofs the angel throws

robed in nature's fimpleft weed

Could

there a flower that

Rofe exceed

Blackwood's Magazine.

Flowers

the

terreftrial ftars that

bring

down

heaven to earth, and carry up our thoughts from

earth to heaven.
23

are flumberous Poppies,

Lords of Lethe downs,

Some awake, and fome

afleep,

Sleeping in our crowns.

What

perchance our dreams

may

know,
Let our ferious beauty fhow.
Central depth of purple,

Leaves more bright than

Who

rofe,

what brighter!: thought

Out of darken1 grows ?
Who, through what funereal pain
mail

tell

Souls to love and peace attain

Vifions aye are on us,

Unto

eyes of power,

Pluto's always fetting fun,

And

Proferpine's

bower;

There, like bees, the pale fouls come

For our drink with drowfy hum.
Tafte, ye mortals, alfoj

Milky-hearted,

we

Tafte, but with a reverent care

Active, patient be,

Too much

gladnefs brings to

Thofe who on

gloom

the gods prefume.

Leigh Hunt.

AIR tree of winter

When all around

frefh

Whofe ruby

and flowering,

dead and dry;

is

buds, though ftorms are

low'ring,

Green

Spread their white bloflbms to the fky.

more purely green
every changing period feen

are thy leaves,

Through

And when the gaudy months are

Thy lovelieft feafon is the laft.

pan:

Be thou an emblem

The hiftory
Whofe eye,

thus unfolding
of that maiden's mind,
thefe

humble

In them her future

lines

beholding,

may find
mutations may (he
lot

Through

life's

modeft evergreen like thee

Though
Still

bleft in

be her

lateft

youth,

in

days the

be

age more

bleft,

beft.

James Montgomery,
So take my gift 'tis a fimple flower,
But perhaps 'twill wile a weary hour;
And the fpirit that its light magic weaves
!

May
And

touch your heart from

if

thefe fhould fail,

A token of love from

it

me

its

fimple leaves

at leaft will

be

to thee.

Willis.

HE

fnowy Lily prefTd with heavy rain,

fills her cup with mowers up

Which

to the brink,

The weary
The

ftalk

no longer can

fuftain

head, but low beneath the burden fink.

Or mould

the virgin Rofe her leaves difplay,

And ope her bofom to the blaze of day,

Down drops her double ruff, and all her charms decay.
Languid and dying feems the purple flower,
Fainting through heat, low hangs her droopir
head

But if revived by a foft falling fhower

Again her lively beauties fhe doth fpread,
And with new pride her filken leaves display
And while the fun doth now more gently play,
Lays out her fwelling bofom to the fmiling day.

Giles Fletcher.

HERE
He

the flowers that

nought that

" Have nought but

Though

is

fair?" faith he

them

all

is

fweet to me,

eyes,

It

was for the Lord of Paradife

He bound them in his (heaves.

"

My

Lord has need of thefe

reaper faid, and fmiled

" Dear tokens of the

" They

fhall all

bloom

Tranfplanted by

And

upon

flow'rets

my

a child.

in fields

care

of light,

garments white,
Thefe facred blolfoms" wear."
faints,

gay,"

earth are they,

Where He was once

their

27

back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful

He kifs'd their drooping leaves

The

Death,

grow between.

the bearded grain

the breath of thefe flowers

I will give

is

his fickle keen,

reaps the bearded grain at a breath,

And
Shall I have

whofe name

a reaper,

is

And, with

And

the

The

mother gave,

in tears

and pain,

flowers fhe moft did love

She knew fhe mould find them

In the fields of light above.

Oh, not

in cruelty,

all

again

not in wrath,

The reaper came that day

Twas an angel vifited the green
$

And

earth,

took the flowers away.

Longfellow.

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