University of Virginia Library

THOUGHTS ON FLOWERS.

[Flowers are the lov'd of all]

Flowers are the lov'd of all,
Of young and old, of peasant and of peer;
E'en the stern tyrant of our race himself
Loveth their bloom and fragrance, and doth cull
Full many a garland from the homes of earth.
Less frequent on the wither'd form of age,
Than on the joyous heart, and cloudless brow,
His icy touch is laid—alas! for them,
The young, the beautiful, the well-belov'd,
Flowers, fair, and sweet of scent, a radiant wreath,
To deck the cold and wintry brow of Death!
Are ye not emblems of ingratitude,
Ye flowers that thus desert the waning year?
While skies were clear, and summer suns shone bright,
Your name was Legion, but when wintry blasts,
Blow from the north, and the first snow-flakes fall,
Like treacherous friends, whose love abideth not
Adversity's ordeal, one by one,
From the fast fading earth, ye shrink away.

[Look at yon lily, how without a blush]

Look at yon lily, how without a blush,
It bares its snowy bosom to the sun,
And woos its kisses, while the modest rose,
Spectatress of its wanton sister's shame,
Hangs down its head, and with one mantling hue,
Glows in each delicate leaf.

[The snowdrop is the herald of the flowers]

The snowdrop is the herald of the flowers,
Sent with its small, white flag of truce to plead
For its beleaguer'd brethren,—suppliantly,
It prays stern Winter to withdraw its troop
Of winds, and blustering storms, and having won
A smile of promise from its pitying foe,
Returns to tell the issue of its errand
To the expectant host.

[Wild flowers, that in the wood's deep solitudes]

Wild flowers, that in the wood's deep solitudes,
And on the far, untrodden mountain tops,
Blossom unseen, to Contemplation's ken,
Most favour'd do ye seem, though human eye
May never gaze upon your loveliness,
Nor human sense inhale your odorous breath.
Ye are as things apart, enshrin'd, devoted,
To a most pure, though lowly destiny;
The glorious hues, which God hath given, ye keep,
Nature's own vestals, stainless till ye die,
And the rich summer scents, your native dower,
Ascend in grateful incense unto heaven.
Wild flowers, thrice happy would it be if they,
Of human kind, who like yourselves are set
In the world's solitudes, could thus preserve
Their innocence unstain'd, thus offer up,
Love, hope, praise, all life's fragrance, unto heaven.

[Here is the violet, the fragrant type]

Here is the violet, the fragrant type
Of modesty, and here, the white vale-lily,
Purity's emblem,—this forget-me-not
Is truth's own token flower, and yonder daisy,
The lowly symbol of simplicity;—
Blossoms of richer scent, and brighter hues,
Are blooming round me, but I heed them not;
Of these shall be my coronal, for twined
Around thy brow, dear Helen, they will be
The outward signs of those sweet qualities,
That in thy guileless bosom, live enshrined.

[Trust not to outward seeming; health doth oft]

Trust not to outward seeming; health doth oft
Assume the mask of sickness, and thou knowest
That when its deepest blushes deck the rose,
The canker-worm is sometimes found within,
Eating its life away.

[I saw a flower in a pathless wood]

I saw a flower in a pathless wood,
Deep hidden in a mazy labyrinth
Of rank wild grass, briers, and prickly leaves;
'Twas a strange donjon for so fair a thing,
Dreary, and dark, and rude, but as I gazed
On its transparent hues, and bending grace,
A golden sunbeam, stealing from a cloud,
Alit on the green summit of the wood,
And lover-like, heeding no obstacles,
Shot thro' the clustering foliage, and thick shade
Of interwoven boughs, thro' tangled brake,
Briar, and branching fern, and tarried not,
Till having reach'd its bourn, it smiling lay
On the white bosom of that lonely flower.
It was a pleasant sight to see how soon
The pretty prisoner rais'd its drooping head,
And gave back smile for smile, and opening wide
Its leaves that erst were folded, seem'd to woo
The shining guest still nearer to its heart—
It was a pleasant sight, and while I eyed
Their amorous dalliance, many a gentle thought,
Arose unsummon'd; Fancy too put forth
Her wanton spells, and lured me far away,
A willing wanderer. I scarce can tell,
Whither, so rapid was her sunny flight,
The merry elfin led, but once, methinks,
Twining the flow'ret in her rainbow wreath,
She bore it, follow'd by the golden beam,
To by-gone ages, and to distant climes,
And called it—Danaë.