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 SHARP CMROMO IITH BOJTOH 
 
THE 
 
 FLORAL YEAR, 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH 
 
 BOUQUETS OE FLOWERS, 
 
 DRAWN AND COLORED 
 
 FROM NATURE. 
 
 EACH FLOWER ILLUSTRATED WITH A POEM. 
 
 BY MRS. ANNA PEYRE DINNIES. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 BENJAMIN B. MUSSEY AND CO. 
 
 NO. 29 CORNHILL. 
 
 1848. 
 
\JAlLLJ 
 
 ?N 
 
 quo 
 
 fL 
 ps? 
 isiz 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, 
 
 By John Keese, 
 
 In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts, 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY S. N. DICKINSON & CO....BOSTON. 
 
3 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Bouquet No. 1.. 13 
 
 Bouquet No. 2.. 25 
 
 Bouquet No. 3.. 35 
 
 Bouquet No. 4.. 46 
 
 Bouquet No. 5.. 63 
 
 Bouquet No. 6.. 90 
 
 Bouquet No. 7.. 118 
 
 Bouquet No. 8.. 144 
 
 Bouquet No. 9.. 172 
 
 Bouquet No. 10.. 186 
 
 Bouquet No. 11.. 199 
 
 Bouquet No. 12.. 218 
 
 Love’s Game, or The Bouquet. . 232 
 
 Power of Association.. 236 
 
 The Parting Wreath — To Henrietta. . 240 
 

 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
FOR INDEXES 
 
 TO THIS WORK REFERENCE MAY BE HAD TO THE END OF THE 
 
 VOLUME. 
 
TO DOCTOR THEODORE D. ELLIOTT, 
 
 OF GLEN-MARY, MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Your beautiful parting gift, with the kind allusion to 
 my tastes that accompanied it, has suggested to me the pro¬ 
 priety of inscribing to you this little volume. Wholly with¬ 
 out pretension, it presents few claims to your notice; but 
 your love, both of Poetry and Flowers, may induce you to 
 peruse, with the indulgence of a friend, their somewhat new 
 combination in these pages. I have made no elaborate effort 
 to compile a Floral Dictionary; I have not even alluded to 
 the Botanical names of the Flowers, and, as to their classifi¬ 
 cation, according to the Linnean, or other systems, I have 
 most carefully avoided it. My object has simply been to 
 gather a Bouquet for every month in the year, of those 
 flowers which were most common and familiar to every one; 
 and adopting from some one of the various Floral Lexicons, 
 the sentiments ascribed to them, to illustrate each by an 
 original poem. Mrs. Hale, Mrs. Wirt, and Mrs. Osgood, 
 
Vlll 
 
 with many others, have written so much and so well upon 
 the subject, that nothing could have induced me to attempt 
 a work of this kind, but the determination to have it wholly 
 original, borrowing nothing but the sentiment, and illustrating 
 that according to my own ideas. Each month opens with a 
 poem containing the entire Bouquet; then, each flower has 
 its particular poem, and each poem its own peculiar train of 
 thought. 
 
 I love flowers! They have been the friends and com¬ 
 panions of my whole life. I owe to their gentle influences 
 much that has soothed and brightened the hours of an un¬ 
 usually monotonous existence; and so tranquilizing and re¬ 
 fining have I ever found their power, that I never see another 
 engaged in their cultivation that I do not feel attracted to¬ 
 wards her, and experience an innate conviction that she is 
 pure in her tastes, and amiable in her disposition. 
 
 The window that is garlanded with flowers, always speaks 
 to me of the bright eyes that have been peeping through them, 
 and the rosy lips which have breathed over their expanding 
 beauties. A garden, a flower garden cultivated by a woman! 
 Who does not understand the feelings it awakens — the 
 associations it creates — and the reminiscences it recalls ? 
 Since the time that Eve walked among the flowers of Eden, 
 ‘ herself the fairest of them all,’ what woman ever looked half 
 so captivating as when arrayed, in some degree, in their ap¬ 
 propriate loveliness ? Flowers, too, are the symbols in which 
 
IX 
 
 we look for the virtues and graces of woman. The aspen 
 shows her shrinking modesty ; the vine is illustrative of her 
 clinging constancy, and tendency to lean on those she loves; 
 the lily, the violet, the rose, are all emblematic of her pecu¬ 
 liar attributes. Spring, Summer, Autumn, have each their 
 respective tributes to bestow, but few things inspire more 
 cheerful feelings than upon entering a comfortable sitting 
 room on a Winter’s morning, to see the bright green leaves, 
 and brilliant blossoms of some rare exotic, glowing in all the 
 freshness of their summer glory. Flowers give such an assur¬ 
 ance of welcome, speaking, as they do, so unequivocally of 
 kindness, and care, and hospitality; they tell us of gentle hands 
 which have tended them, fond glances which have watched 
 them, and sweet voices which have whispered thoughts from 
 the inmost fountains of the soul to their holy keeping. We 
 know that there are pure and deep affections where the love 
 of flowers dwells ; we feel that fancy and taste have an in¬ 
 fluence there, and that hope and gladness consecrate the spot. 
 I am apt to moralize sometimes, and seek for traits of char¬ 
 acter where few would expect to discover them; hence, when 
 I see flowers blooming so cheerfully within doors, and hear 
 the storm whistling without, I know that the cold which has 
 made me shiver would soon wither and destroy those fragile 
 offerings of Nature, and am led to the reflection, that their 
 feebleness and dependence have touched some tender chord 
 in the sympathising heart of woman, and awakened that 
 
X 
 
 propensity to cherish and to love, so instinctively excited in 
 her bosom by the weak or suffering. I learn, thence, how 
 natural it becomes for such a being to soothe the careworn, 
 and console the disappointed man ; and I see how truly she 
 may become a helpmate in his hour of trial; and I know 
 that his kindness and his love should reward her efforts, even 
 as the Winter flowers bloom in grateful homage to her care. 
 
 Our fair countrywomen would do well to cultivate more 
 generally these mute companions in their social sitting-rooms. 
 They lend a charm to the dreary Winter hours, by calling up 
 pleasant fancies of spring-time and promise ; they bring sweet 
 associations to the memory, and touch the softest notes that 
 vibrate in the heart, creating sentiments of hope, and love, 
 and gratitude. 
 
 I have woven a hundred poems into this little design, em¬ 
 bracing, of course, but few of the children of Flora, still 
 there are enough to form a Bouquet for each month, which 
 may be obtained at a moment’s notice in almost any part of 
 our country. 
 
 The occupation has been to me one of much interest, and 
 although 
 
 I seldom care if strangers praise 
 My lute’s unbidden song, 
 
 Its simplest and its proudest lays 
 To those I love belong. 
 
XI 
 
 Still thy approval, like a breath, 
 
 From the sweet South has come, 
 Whose magic touch an influence hath, 
 Waking the spells of home; 
 
 These place thee from the crowd — apart, 
 With those to whom I sing, 
 
 In the warm gushings of my heart 
 Such strains as here I bring! 
 
 Very sincerely your’s, 
 
 August 30, 1846. 
 Saint Louis, Mo. 
 
 \ 
 
 ANNA PEYRE DINNIES, 
 
\ 
 
THE FLORAL YEAR. 
 
 BOUQUET No. 1. 
 
 BOUQUET FOB JANUABY, COMPOSED OF THE DEW-PLANT - THE ACACIA-THE 
 STOCK GILLY-AND THE EYEEGBEEN THOBN. 
 
 Significations : — A Serenade — Platonic Love — Always the same — and Solace in Sorrow. 
 
 To welcome in the opening year 
 I’ll cull a Bouquet fresh and rare, 
 
 To twine amid the glossy hair, 
 
 Of her I deem most sweet and fair! 
 
 The garden yields few charms to-day, 
 
 But these shall each its homage pay, 
 
 And to her gentle heart convey 
 
 The thoughts that o’er my mind hold sway. 
 
14 
 
 And here, close nestling to my hand, 
 Behold the humble Dew-plant stand, 
 Waiting to bear my first command, 
 
 Like messenger from Fairy Land! 
 
 Then whisper to the beauteous maid 
 Of Music’s charms, whose power to aid 
 My suit, this night shall be essayed, 
 
 In Love’s first anxious ‘ Serenade.’ 
 
 Acacia! mid thy fragrant bells 
 ‘ Platonic Love ’ would weave his spells; 
 Then bear them where my fair one dwells. 
 His first wish thus affection tells. 
 
 And thou, Stock Gilly ! ‘ still the same,’ 
 Seeking nor change, nor show, nor fame, 
 Might’st put full many a friend to shame, 
 Go — with my blessing on thy name! 
 
15 
 
 And thou — that when the heart is torn, 
 
 And Sorrow’s seal the brow hath worn, 
 Would’st bid the sufferer cease to mourn, 
 
 Art welcome too, thou bright green Thorn ! 
 
 \ 
 
 For still thy silent teachings prove, 
 
 Like lessons from the courts above, 
 
 Bidding the anguished spirit rove 
 From earth-born care to Heavenly love. 
 
 And thus a Bouquet fresh and rare 
 I’ve twined to greet the opening year; 
 
 And place my flowers amid the hair, 
 
 Of her I deem most sweet and fair. 
 
16 
 
 Dew-plant. — ‘ A Serenade .’ 
 
 There are few hearts which have never felt the soothing influence 
 of Music; and often has the midnight serenade brought repose to 
 the unquiet pillow. 
 
 Oh! when the heart is filled with care, 
 And thoughts of gloom arise; 
 
 And still unbidden springs the tear, 
 
 To dim the tell-tale eyes; 
 
 How sweetly does the magic power, 
 
 Of Music soothe the soul; 
 
 Exerting o’er the darkest hour, 
 
 Its pure but strong control! 
 
 Or, when ’mid festive scenes we move, 
 And Pleasure’s sway we own, 
 
 And all we hope — and all we love, 
 Are breathed in look and tone; 
 
17 
 
 How surely then does music fling 
 Her charm upon the heart; 
 
 And all its better feelings bring, 
 
 To bless the Minstrel’s art! 
 
 Then Minstrel of the sweet Guitar! 
 
 To whom the spell is given, 
 
 Which guides us, like ‘ the pure, bright star,’ 
 From earthly thoughts to Heaven; 
 
 Let one true heart its thanks confess, 
 
 For many a pleasure strong, 
 
 And own its cares have oft seemed less, 
 While listening to thy song. 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 Acacia. — ‘ Platonic Love! 
 
 A refined sentiment existing between persons of opposite sexes 
 too tender for friendship, and too spirituelle for affection. 
 
 There is a love that liveth 
 From passion’s dross apart; 
 
 And many an hour it giveth 
 Of gladness to the heart. 
 
 There is a dream that cometh, 
 
 At morn — at noon — at even — 
 
 And ’mid its wild flowers bloometh 
 One bud of hope and Heaven! 
 
 Radiant as Fancy’s gleam, 
 
 But ever free from sin; 
 
 That Love — that hope — that dream — 
 Still glow my heart within. 
 
19 
 
 Stock-Gilly Flower. — ‘ Always the Same * 
 
 There is something grateful to one’s feelings in the sentiment 
 ascribed to this simple flower, that always renders it the favorite 
 in a bouquet. 
 
 I change not, I change not, no gay bird am I, 
 To warble all summer beneath a bright sky; 
 Then fly off when Autumn her chill breezes brings, 
 To darken my plumage, and ruffle my wings. 
 
 I change not, I change not, no light heart is mine, 
 To put forth its tendrils, a soft pliant vine, 
 
 Which clings to each object alike that is near, 
 Embracing all friendships as equally dear. 
 
 I change not, I change not, but once having sung, 
 To the same ear I warble, the note still the same; 
 While my heart, like the Ivy, where once it hath clung, 
 Still clings on through sorrow, misfortune, or shame. 
 
20 
 
 Evergreen Thorn. — £ Solace in Sorrow. 
 
 When sorrow has touched us, the mind seeks for consolation in 
 the glorious revelations of Nature, and combining the objects which 
 surround us, or dwelling upon each one that separately presents 
 itself, reflects, speculates, and deduces, until, rising to the Great 
 Source of all, it finds repose in the convictions of a better world. 
 
 The setting sun with golden rays, s 
 Has tinged the western sky; 
 
 And floating clouds around him blaze, 
 
 In gorgeous pageantry; 
 
 -While loveliness not wont to gleam, 
 
 Beneath his warm meridian beam, 
 
 But such as in a Claude it meets, 
 
 The muses’ eye now sweetly greets. 
 
 Yet in the vale dark shadows rest, 
 
 And throng the mountain high; 
 
 While on the water’s tranquil breast, 
 
 Appears the pictured sky; 
 
21 
 
 So dream-like the reflection thrown, 
 That feelings of a deeper tone, 
 
 As on the scene we gaze, will start, 
 Wildly tumultuous to the heart. 
 
 In freshness steeped, the balm-fraught breeze, 
 Sweeps o’er the closing flowers; 
 
 And swells like music through the trees, 
 Sighing of by-gone hours; 
 
 E’en in its fragrance there’s a spell, 
 
 The soul must own, but cannot tell, 
 
 And in its murmurs soft and bland, 
 
 Seem whispers from the spirit-land. 
 
 The laden bee, and chirping bird, 
 Now flitting to repose, 
 
 With buzzing insects, ever heard 
 At evening’s dewy close — 
 
22 
 
 Have all an influence sad, but sweet, 
 Where’er the gentler feelings meet, 
 
 Or Fancy wild her wreaths has twined, 
 Or Hope was e’er an idol shrined. 
 
 And now, behold! The glorious sun, 
 
 The mountain, wave, and vale, 
 
 And bright clouds which our worship won, 
 Are lost, or fading — pale. 
 
 The heavens in rosy light no more, 
 
 Smile fondly now the landscape o’er, 
 
 And on the sudden change we gaze, 
 
 Till thought reverts to childhood’s days. 
 
 Another change — Lo! peering from 
 The dark, still vault above, 
 
 One little star has brightly come, 
 Like hope — or peace — or love — 
 
23 
 
 And gently calls the wanderer back, 
 From brooding memory’s darkened track, 
 And leads, with mild, unerring ray, 
 
 To future scenes of endless day. 
 
 Emblem of bfe! ’t is thus in youth, 
 
 Fab visions charm the mind, 
 
 While manhood feels the hacknied truth, 
 * They vary as the wind ; ’ — 
 
 Like sunset splendours when they fade, 
 Adi things seem sinking into shade, 
 
 Till Wisdom’s lights around us play, 
 
 And chase desponding thoughts away. 
 
 She leads the mind to sterner things, 
 To Duty’s starlit way, 
 
 And o’er realities she flings 
 
 Truth’s full, unchanging ray; — 
 
24 
 
 Dark feelings change — a calm steals o’er 
 The ardent sonl unknown before, 
 
 While every hope, and impulse flies, 
 
 To realms of peace beyond the skies. 
 

25 
 
 BOUQUET No. 2. 
 
 BOUQUET FOK FEBRUARY, COMPOSED OF THE CAMELLIA JAPONICA - ARBOR- 
 YIT2E - LAURISTIUUS - AND AMERICAN COWSLIP. 
 
 Significations : — My Destiny is in your hands — Live for me — I die if neglected — You are 
 
 my divinity. 
 
 Few are the Flowers by Nature given, 
 
 This early month to bless; 
 
 But those she sends, like boons from Heaven, 
 Excel in loveliness! 
 
 The fair Camellia lifts its head, 
 
 In modest grace arrayed; 
 
 While the soft perfume round it shed 
 Forewarns the gentle maid, 
 
 That he who gives it to her care, 
 
 And close beside her stands, 
 
 Would softly whisper in her ear, 
 
 ‘My fate is in thy hands!’ 
 
26 
 
 The Arborvitce next is seen, 
 
 In contrast with the flower, 
 
 Dressed in its robe of evergreen, 
 
 The pride of Winter’s bower; 
 
 It, too, a message may impart, 
 
 And speak in accents free, 
 
 The thought that swells that maiden’s heart, 
 ‘ Ah, you must live for me ! ’ 
 
 The Lauristinus then appears; 
 
 Its clustering blossoms bend, 
 
 As if, to hide their rising tears, 
 
 It sought some tender friend, 
 
 Upon whose breast to bloom, and lie 
 Protected in its charms, 
 
 For 1 if neglected it will die ’ 
 
 Amidst its own alarms. 
 
 The hardy Cowslip gaily springs, 
 
 Its fostering vase above, 
 
 And sings aloud the note it brings 
 From Flora’s courts of Love; 
 
27 
 
 ‘ My fair divinity thon art,’ 
 
 My dream by day — by night, — 
 Thine image dwelleth in my heart, 
 Secure from change or blight. 
 
 And thus, though few the flowers I find 
 This early month to bless, 
 
 When in a Bouquet once combined, 
 
 All must their charms confess. 
 
28 
 
 Camellia Japonica. — 1 My Destiny is in your hands .’ 
 
 It is a fearful thing to love ! to give up one’s whole existence, 
 and to place the responsibilities of one’s being in the keeping of 
 another. 
 
 At Beauty’s shrine I ne’er have knelt, 
 With offerings lightly made; 
 
 Nor yet the charms of mind have felt, 
 Which lasts when others fade. 
 
 At Fashion’s throne I ne’er have bowed, 
 Nor yet at Youth’s gay altar; 
 
 No everlasting faith have vowed, 
 
 With love that could not falter. 
 
 But now, with heart still fresh and pure, 
 I wait thy sweet commands, 
 
 My destiny for evermore 
 Bests, lady! in thy hands. 
 
29 
 
 ArborvittE. — ‘ Live for me.’’ 
 
 Barry Cornwall defines Love to be 4 an offering of tlie whole 
 heart, a sacrifice of all that poor life hath.’ It is but natural, 
 therefore, when relinquishing so much, that the Heart should be 
 equally exacting in its requirements. 
 
 Be mine, and mine only, nor hope to divide, 
 
 The devotion I prize with one being beside; 
 
 Like the lights on an altar your friendship may burn, 
 Diffusing its beams and inviting return; 
 
 But the pure flame of Love like a lamp should be 
 hung, 
 
 Whose light on the shrine of an idol is flung, 
 
 Still tinging with lusture and hues of its own, 
 Each offering affection around it has thrown. 
 
 Be mine, and mine only, nor cherish the dream, 
 That true love o’er many in fervor can beam, 
 Like the sun which at noonday its radiance sheds 
 round, 
 
 Till each object it strikes with a glory is crowned ; 
 
30 
 
 No! Friendship indeed may in tenderness fall, 
 Like the silvery rays of the moon upon all, 
 
 While unlike her pale beauty it still leaves behind, 
 Some hue in the heart, and some mark in the 
 mind. 
 
 But mine, and mine only, that feeling must be, 
 Which calls itself Love , and is offered to me; 
 Like a star in the east, I must see it arise, 
 
 And steadily climb to its place in the skies; 
 
 My dream and my idol, by night and by day, 
 With no gleam falling off in its proud upward way; 
 Receiving the homage of beauty and worth, 
 
 But casting no answering warmth back to earth. 
 
31 
 
 Lauristinus. — : I die if neglected .’ 
 
 This sentiment seems peculiarly applicable to the sensitive af¬ 
 fections of woman. 
 
 This shrub, with soft euphonious name, 
 Which from Iberia’s bright land came, 
 
 Will flourish in a clime like ours, 
 
 Still redolent with pure white flowers; 
 Blooming each season of the year, 
 
 If tended gently and with care; 
 
 But dies if long unheeded left, 
 
 Of kindness and regard bereft. — 
 
 Apt emblem of affection’s power 
 O’er woman’s heart, art thou, sweet floAver! 
 For she, like thee, will droop and die 
 If scorned, or passed neglected by; 
 
 Or like thee yield, her charms to bless, 
 
 The care that wins her tenderness. 
 
32 
 
 American Cowslip. — £ You are my Divinity.'’ 
 
 Every bosom cherishes an ideal excellence, which it worships 
 Mine may be found in the following: — 
 
 THE SOUL’S IDEAL. 
 
 Thou art my soul’s ideal! pure and bright, 
 
 And filled with every excellence. Thou seenTst 
 A tangible embodiment of light, 
 
 And from the Eternal-uncreated, gleam’st 
 In softened lustre, — animate, — refined, — 
 
 The visible Divinity of Mind. 
 
 Essential beauty ! with the morn’s first ray, 
 
 Thou beam’st upon me from the Orient blest, 
 Guiding my spirit with resistless sway, 
 
 Till gathering shadows darken in the west; 
 Then bursting forth more brilliant from afar, 
 t own thine influence in some idol-star! 
 
S3 
 
 Goodness, and Purity, and Truth are thine, 
 Mingling thy presence with whate’er I see, 
 
 In which their abstract principles combine 
 To win devotion while they symbol Thee; 
 Type of each Virtue which to man has given 
 Trust in his kind, and fervent faith in Heaven. 
 
 \ ision of Girlhood! Idol of the dreams, 
 
 Which still through life have softened every care, 
 Whose hallowing sweetness, ever near me seems 
 To add fresh charms to all that’s bright and fair, — 
 A richer perfume to the fragrant rose, 
 
 And tints more glorious where the iris glows. 
 
 In the still hours of darkness thou hast come, 
 
 A spirit-visitant to soothe and bless, 
 
 Calling the ’wildered wanderer gently home, 
 
 And quelling suffering with thy soft caress; 
 
 Till in my sleep thy mystic charm I’ve felt, 
 
 And in my dreams in worship wild have knelt. 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 Shrined on the Spirit’s altar! Oh, reveal 
 The spell, Zcinoui-like , thy power hath thrown, 
 Over my very soul, — whose high Ideal 
 In thee alone it ever yet hath known; 
 Emblem of Beauty! eidolon of Good! 
 
 Believed, — adored,—but dimly understood! 
 

 
 
35 
 
 BOUQUET No. 3. 
 
 BOUQUET FOE MAECH, COMPOSED OF THE SNOWDEOP - MIGNONETTE - DOG¬ 
 WOOD — TULIP TEEE — TULIP FLO WEE - WniTE JONQUIL — 
 
 AND FOEGET ME NOT. 
 
 Significations : — Simplicity — Your qualities surpass your charms —Love mdiminished ly 
 absence — Rural Happiness — Declaration of Love —Devotion — 
 
 My name is a spell. 
 
 Loudly now the March wind blowing, 
 Heralds in the genial Spring; 
 Gracious promises bestowing, 
 
 As its blasts around us ring; — 
 Hark! it tells of early flowers, 
 
 Let us seek the gay parterre, 
 
 For already seem the bowers, 
 
 Filled with balmy blossoms fair. 
 
 Here a Snowdrop trembles forth, 
 
 In beauty, just above the ground, 
 
 1 Simplicity,’ that gem of worth, 
 
 In its bosom may be found! 
 
36 
 
 Like rich jewels we should set, 
 
 ‘ Qualities surpassing charms,’ 
 
 And the fragrant Mignonette , 
 
 By this spell our bosom warms ! 
 
 Star-like, see the Dogwood shine, 
 
 In the distance pure and bright, 
 
 It tells of ‘ Love as strong as mine, 
 
 Which absence dares not change or blight’ 
 And observe this Jonquil sweet, 
 
 Exciting many a deep emotion, 
 
 While its rising odors greet 
 The soul with incense-like ‘Devotion.’ 
 
 Here, too, mark the Tulip Tree , 
 
 ‘ Rural Happiness its theme, 
 
 While the Tulip Flower should be 
 By its side, ‘ Love’s early dream; ’ 
 
 Or ‘ A Declaration ’ style it, 
 
 Filled with visions gay and sweet; 
 
 Ah, then, wherefore, to defile it, 
 
 Should it with Experience meet? 
 
37 
 
 But onward to yon sunny spot, 
 
 Some treasure there must surely dwell! 
 And see, the blue Forget-me-not , 
 
 ‘ Whose very name is deemed a spell! ’ 
 Here then pause! our walk is ended, 
 
 Its memory now alone is ours, 
 
 But its charm may be extended 
 
 Through our bright Bouquet of flowers. 
 
38 
 
 Snowdrop. — ‘ Simplicity .’ 
 
 Pure as an infant, ere life has given a tint to its character, is the 
 modest Snowdrop. It is the first flower that lifts its head when the 
 frosts depart, and its simple confidence seems proverbial. 
 
 A modest Snowdrop ! Emblem pure, that tells 
 The sweet simplicity in youth that dwells. 
 
 Mignonette. — ‘ Your qualities surpass your charms' 
 
 There are few persons who would not prefer the homage offered 
 to their qualities of mind and heart, to that which is elicited by the 
 fading charms of personal loveliness. 
 
 Lady ! accept this gift of modest hue, 
 
 Which in its loveliness resembles you; 
 
 A fitting emblem of your graceful mind, 
 
 Your manners gentle, and your soul refined; 
 For as you view it, seems it not to say, 
 
 1 Though we shall perish you will ne’er decay, 
 
39 
 
 But in unfading beauty will appear 
 A fragrant blossom in a higher sphere?’ 
 Receive it, therefore, as the homage due, 
 To worth and virtue as revealed in you. 
 
 Dogwood. — ‘ Love undiminished by Absence .’ 
 
 I have seen it recorded as a custom of ‘ the martyr Queen of 
 Scots,’ to ‘ send messages through the clouds, the stars, and the 
 evening breeze, to her friends in France,’ associating them in her 
 thoughts with every thing pure and bright. What a touching 
 evidence of affection! 
 
 Ye little stars! that twinkle high, 
 
 In the dark vault of Heaven, 
 
 Like spangles on the deep blue sky, 
 
 Perhaps to you ’t is given 
 
 To shed your lucid radiance now, 
 
 Upon my absent loved one’s brow ? 
 
40 
 
 Ye fleecy clouds! that swiftly glide 
 O’er Earth’s oft darkened way, 
 
 Floating along in grace and pride, 
 
 Perhaps your shadows stray, 
 
 E’en now across the starry light, 
 
 That guides my wanderer forth to-night? 
 
 Ye balmy breezes! sweeping by, 
 
 And shedding freshness round, 
 
 Ye, too, may haply as ye fly, 
 
 With health and fragrance crowned, 
 
 Linger a moment, soft and light, 
 
 To sport amid his tresses bright? 
 
 Then Stars, and Clouds, and Breezes bear, 
 
 My heart’s best wish to him; 
 
 And say the feelings glowing there 
 Nor time nor change can dim; 
 
 That be success or grief his share, 
 
 My love still brightening shall appear. 
 
41 
 
 The White Jonquil. — ‘ Devotion 
 
 The incense offered by Faith upon the altar of Gratitude. 
 
 To Tliee, oh, God! my thoughts uprise 
 When Evening shadows fall; 
 
 And when Morn gilds the Eastern skies, 
 With hope on Thee I call; 
 
 Convinced thou still wilt deign to hear, 
 The faithful heart’s ascending prayer! 
 
 To Thee, my soul in deep devotion, 
 
 I lift when Care assails; 
 
 To curb and soothe each wild emotion, 
 Thy Mercy never fails; 
 
 Then ever let each strong desire 
 God of my Life! to Thee aspire! 
 
42 
 
 Tulip Tree. — c Rural Happiness.' 
 
 Tulip Flower. — ‘ Dream of Love.' C A Declaration.' 
 
 I have combined these sentiments in a single poem, as I imagine 
 them all parts of a bright whole. 
 
 Lady, bright! thy father’s halls, 
 
 In princely splendor shine; 
 
 A lowly cot with vine-clad walls, 
 
 Alone I count as mine; 
 
 Here many in attendance wait 
 Upon each light behest, 
 
 And all around proclaim thy state, 
 
 By wealth and grandeur blest! 
 
 My humbler home affords not one 
 Of all the pageant train, 
 
 'Which glitters like the noon-day sun, 
 Around the rich and vain; 
 
43 
 
 But ever by its hearth are met, 
 The joyous and the fair, 
 
 For innocence and peace have set, 
 Their seals on each one there. 
 
 My Mother with her virtues meek, 
 
 Fair Sisters whom I prize, 
 
 Around my board a blessing speak, 
 From loving, laughing eyes; 
 
 Their tones are sweet, for heartfelt glee, 
 In every voice is heard, 
 
 And pure affection, warm and free, 
 Sounds in each artless word. 
 
 Then, Lady! leave thy halls of state, 
 
 To share the peaceful lot, 
 
 Of one who shuns the proud and great, 
 For joys they value not; 
 
44 
 
 And to my cottage home repair, 
 
 Its pride and light to shine ; 
 
 To every inmate’s heart thou’rt dear, 
 But dearest still to mine. 
 
 Forget me not. — 1 My name is a spell.’ 
 
 This flower grows wild upon the banks of almost every stream 
 in our country; a small blue star, not at all like the Pansy, to which 
 its name is often misapplied. 
 
 Sweet, pretty Flower! that shuns parade, 
 Oh, leave with me this lowly shade. 
 
 Nor here, unloved, unnoticed fade. 
 
 Thou hast a charm, dear flower, for me, 
 Which I have found in none but thee, 
 And a fit emblem seem’st to be, 
 
45 
 
 Of one, in whom united blend 
 The graces, worth and beauty lend; 
 
 The beau ideal of a Friend. 
 
 A something, — I define it not, — 
 
 For every heart may whisper what, 
 
 If seen can never be forgot; 
 
 And in thy pure and tender blue, 
 
 Fidelity’s symbolic hue, 
 
 I read inscribed ‘to memory true.’ 
 
 Then come with me, Sweet Flower, and tell, 
 Of Virtues which I love so well; 
 
 Thy very name contains a spell! 
 
 And when thy beauties all decay, 
 
 And e’en thy fragrance fades away, 
 
 I’ll keep thy relics many a day. 
 
46 
 
 BOUQUET No. 4. 
 
 BOUQUET FOB APRIL, COMPOSED OF THE DAFFODIL-WAX MYBTLE - DAISY - 
 LAUREL - CRIMSON ROSE - AND ROSE GERANIUM. 
 
 Significations : —Deception - I will give you advice —Innocence —Ambition —Beauty and 
 
 Love — and Preference. 
 
 Now April is here, with her sunshine and showers, 
 
 Her bright-glowing skies, and her rich-tinted flowers, 
 Which spangle the earth, and adorn the gay bowers; 
 While the song-birds keep time to the swift flying hours. 
 
 Then, away to the fields, to the garden repair, 
 
 And gather fresh Bouquets for Beauty to wear, 
 Arrange them with taste, and select them with care, 
 For Flowers speak volumes from those who are dear: 
 
47 
 
 And see the wild Daffodil carelessly spring, 
 Around us as though its bright colors could bring, 
 Delight to the gazer who knows that they fling, 
 ‘Deception’ o’er all w r ho their loveliness sing; 
 
 But this charming Wax Myrtle, whose green leaves contrast 
 So well with the white little balls ’midst them cast, 
 
 Has a far graver meaning — and though fading fast, 
 
 * It will give you advice ’ ere its beauty is past; 
 
 And this sweet pretty Daisy , so modest and meek, 
 Its humble head bending, concealment to seek, 
 
 A word dear to all in a whisper would speak, 
 
 For the low voice of ‘ Innocence ’ often is weak! 
 
 While towering aloft in its purposes high, 
 
 Mark yonder proud Laurel saluting the sky, 
 
 With its white-scented blossoms attracting the eye, 
 And inciting ‘ Ambition ’ to reach them or — die! 
 
48 
 
 And this rich Crimson Rose, Flora’s idol and pride, 
 Whose odor the breezes are scattering wide, 
 
 With ‘ Beauty and Love ’ have so long been allied, 
 That poets have called it ‘ the Nightingale’s bride.’ 
 
 And though last not the least of the treasures we’ve found 
 This fragrant Geranium our bouquet has crowned, 
 
 Of 1 Preference ’ speaking, though numbers surround, 
 
 It is hers who a captive our true heart hath bound. 
 
49 
 
 Daffodil. — ‘ Deception .’ 
 
 s 
 
 Among the various lessons of expediency taught by the world, 
 there is none more necessary, or more difficult, than that which 
 warns us to conceal our emotions from the knowledge of the multi¬ 
 tude. 
 
 I have seen, in the Spring-breeze, gay flowerets 
 wave, 
 
 While around them rich perfumes were playing; 
 
 Yet I knew they were blossoming over a grave, 
 Where Beauty and Youth were decaying; 
 
 But few, as they bloomed, would have deemed that 
 beneath 
 
 Those beautiful symbols were ruin and death ! 
 
 I have looked on the Ocean, and catching a gleam 
 Of sunshine its bosom arraying, 
 
 Thought the billows which chased it, to fancy might 
 seem 
 
 Like children in innocence playing, 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 Yet I knew all the while there was treachery there, 
 For the surface alone was illumined and fair. 
 
 I have seen a gay smile, and beheld a bright eye, 
 And mirth seemed in each to be beaming, 
 
 And the light laugh’s wild carol, have heard flitting 
 
 b y. 
 
 But knew, ah, too well, ’t was all seeming. 
 
 For that joy-beaming face, and the spirits so gay, 
 Concealed a sad heart, where hope shed not a ray. 
 
51 
 
 Wax Myrtle. — ‘ I will give you advice: 
 
 The following lines were addressed to a beautiful little girl of 
 two years old, but may contain a lesson for others of her sex, who 
 have numbered more hours than Virginia. 
 
 Those eyes which are darting such bright glances 
 now, 
 
 Shedding gladness and light ever fondly around 
 thee, 
 
 Reveal, while young Pleasure laughs forth from thy 
 brow, 
 
 How surely the Spirit of Beauty hath crowned 
 thee! 
 
 But, sweet one 1 beware, 
 
 There’s a shadow of care, 
 
 Obscuring those quick, vivid flashes; 
 
 And Feeling's deep spell 
 In each beam seems to dwell, 
 
 Unconcealed by thy soft silken lashes! 
 
52 
 
 Yes! pure thoughts and high, soul-inspired, are 
 springing, 
 
 On that fan brow of innocence, pleasure, and youth, 
 And Fancy her gay fleeting visions is bringing, 
 Bright, witching, unreal, but dearer than truth; 
 And Hope’s meteor ray, 
 
 Will o’er each seem to play, 
 
 Till thy heart clings with fervent emotion, 
 
 To the shadowy things, 
 
 Fancy shakes from her wings, 
 
 And thou ’It love them with woman’s devotion! 
 
 Alas, for thee, then, Child! all pure as thou art, 
 
 Life has its sorrows, and Time will bring sadness, 
 But Virtue her impress has placed on thy heart, 
 
 To sustain it when Care shall have banished thy 
 gladness; 
 
 Yet shun the sweet smile 
 Fancy yields to beguile 
 
53 
 
 Thy steps from the path Truth has given, 
 And steadily tread, 
 
 In the light she has shed, 
 
 Which will guide thee, Virginia, to Heaven. 
 
 Daisy. — ‘ Innocence! 
 
 The following graceful lines were addressed by a gentleman to a 
 friend of the author’s, who had just lost a lovely infant, a few months 
 old. As they have never been published, and so beautifully embody 
 the idea I wish to convey, I have taken the liberty of using them 
 here. 
 
 The Spirit of Innocence slept in a flower, 
 
 A bright little Daisy that looked to the sky, 
 
 With a smile which illumined the shade of the 
 bower 
 
 When the dew of the morning re-opened its eye; 
 
54 
 
 But a storm-cloud uprising its pinion threw o’er it, 
 And cruelly dashed every petal to earth; 
 
 When, lo ! to the Heavens its pure spirit bore it, 
 
 In a cloud of the perfume that hallowed its birth. 
 
 Thus sternly the Angel of Death o’er us rushing, 
 With a voice like the tempest, a frown like the 
 cloud, 
 
 Waved its wing o’er our flower, its bright petals 
 crushing, 
 
 To repose on the sward ’neath a gossamer shroud. 
 
 But from its pure bosom a Spirit upspringing, 
 
 Has fled with its perfume to bowers above, 
 
 And there, where the harps of the seraphs are ringing, 
 ’T will bloom in the sunshine of Heavenly love. 
 
55 
 
 Laurel. — ‘ Ambition ‘ Love of Fame? 
 
 There are few objects more interesting to contemplate than the 
 struggles of a young and ardent spirit on the toilsome paths of fame; 
 its aspirations after the lofty and beautiful are sublime ! To obtain 
 the Laurel wreath is ever the object of its highest ambition, uncon¬ 
 scious, it would seem, that the most deadly ‘poison is distilled from the 
 leaves of the same tree. 
 
 TO IDA. 
 
 Enthusiast of the Western wild! 
 
 I mark thine upward flight, 
 
 By young ambition still beguiled 
 To Delphi’s dizzy height, 
 
 E’en with a sister’s pride, and own 
 A sister’s love though scarcely known! 
 
 A sympathy of thought has stirred 
 Deep feelings in my soul, 
 
 Which spring toward thee as bird 
 Escaping from control, 
 
56 
 
 Seeks ’midst its native air again 
 
 The notes which formed its first wild strain. 
 
 The dreams which charm, the hopes which lure, 
 Thy steps upon their way, 
 
 Familiar as my home of yore, 
 
 Around my memory play; 
 
 And thy most cherished wish I name 
 The idol, the delusion — Fame! 
 
 ’Twas mine, while yet a child I roved 
 Life’s budding flowers among; 
 
 ’T was mine until my bosom proved 
 Another — and I flung 
 Fame — Fancy — Hope — upon the shrine 
 To make that dearer idol mine. 
 
 But start not — for to thee the spell 
 Exists in all its power — 
 
 Thine ardent strains the story tell, 
 
 Hope claims the present hour; 
 
57 
 
 Fervent and free thy young thoughts rise, 
 Like fragrance to the summer skies. 
 
 Then onward! while the Laurel charms 
 With fadeless green thine eye, 
 
 Beauty still dazzles, wins, and warms, 
 Though dangers ’neath it he; 
 
 And oft in hfe we find with grief 
 The poison in the Laurel-leaf. 
 
 But may thy fate far happier be, 
 
 More blest thy lofty gifts, 
 
 Than if Fame’s garlands circled tnee, 
 When Time Life’s curtain lifts; 
 
 A home of peace — a hearth of love —» 
 Sweet Ida! be it thine to prove! 
 
58 
 
 The Crimson Rose. — 4 Beauty and Love! 
 
 The Crimson Eose has ever been called ‘ the most beautiful of 
 Flowers,’ ‘ the Garden Queen,’ &c., and so highly is it valued in 
 Oiiental Nations, that it has been the foundation of numerous fanci¬ 
 ful legends and romances among their imaginative inhabitants. 
 
 The modest Rose, 
 
 Where’er it grows, 
 
 A perfume round it flings; 
 
 Love’s chosen flower, 
 
 To Beauty’s bower 
 An added grace it brings; 
 
 And he who wins its gentle charms, 
 Should place them near his heart, 
 Lest midst the shock of life’s alarms, 
 Its blushes may depart. 
 
59 
 
 Thus woman’s Love 
 Must ever prove, 
 
 Imaged in this sweet flower; 
 
 Oh, bid it live, 
 
 And charms ’twill give, 
 
 To each revolving hour; 
 
 But blight it not by coldness ever, 
 
 ’T will wither in a day, 
 
 And the rich gift, and gentle giver, 
 Will both alike decay! 
 
 But ever be 
 The Bose to thee, 
 
 A charmed and valued flower, 
 
 And grace ’twill throw, 
 
 O’er every wo, 
 
 That shades thine earthly bower; 
 Within thy bosom guard it well, 
 
 From each rude storm that lowers; 
 And Love will prove his magic spell, 
 Dwells in this Queen of Flowers. 
 
60 
 
 The Bulbul sings, 
 
 And folds his wings 
 Beside his worshipped Rose; 
 
 Which ere its close, 
 
 Fresh sweetness shows, 
 
 To soothe him to repose ! 
 
 Such be thy fate —this Eastern tale 
 A moral should impart, 
 
 Thou ’st won the flower — oh, never fail 
 To wear it next thy heart! 
 
61 
 
 Rose Geranium. — { Preference. 
 
 It is difficult to foretell the quality that will win preference; but, 
 as a general rule, Sincerity seems the best calculated to excite and 
 establish regard. 
 
 Though many have wooed me with Flattery’s wiles, 
 And exerted each art to elicit my smiles, 
 
 Have whispered kind words it was pleasant to hear, 
 And breathed in Love’s accents fond praise in mine 
 ear; 
 
 My heart all unmoved has their efforts received, 
 Save when at their folly it sometimes has grieved ; 
 Or given its music, like melodies flung 
 Unconsciously forth, from a harp that’s unstrung, 
 
 To meet the light fingers that flew o’er its chords, 
 
 A meaningless echo — which often rewards 
 The touch of a skilless musician — and proves 
 A balm to the spirit that hopelessly loves! 
 
62 
 
 But Thou! who ne’er sought me with feelings like 
 these, 
 
 Who deigned not to flatter, and scarce cared to 
 please, 
 
 Who showed me my errors, and blamed me whene’er 
 
 A fault in my conduct too oft would appear; 
 
 Hast won in my bosom emotions unknown, 
 
 For any beside thee — Thou bright peerless one! 
 
 Whose hand like a master’s hath wakened at will, 
 
 Each chord in my heart, and hath swayed it with 
 skill, 
 
 Calling up every ton^ which could pleasure bestow, 
 
 And causing its music in streams to o’erflow; 
 
 To thee, still to thee, is my preference given; 
 
 And to thee bows my heart, as saints bow to Heaven. 
 
63 
 
 BOUQUET No. 5. 
 
 BOUQUET FOB MAT, COMPOSED OF THE SNOWBALL - LILY OF THE VALLEY - 
 MYRTLE - ROSES - HAWTHORN - VIOLET - WHITE ROSEBUD - HYACINTH - 
 ANEMONIE-IRIS-BUTTER CUP-AND AMERICAN ELM. 
 
 Significations : —Hook to things above — Restored Happiness —Love —Pledges of Affection 
 — Hope — Modesty — Maiden's Blush — Grief—Forsaken — Unrequited Love — 
 Forgiveness — and Patriotism. 
 
 Season of Flowers! Sweet May! thy birth we hail! 
 
 As glad emotions thrill our grateful hearts, 
 
 And perfume-laden breezes waft the tale, 
 
 That lingering Winter from our land departs ; 
 Accept our tribute on thy natal day, 
 
 And shed thy smiles upon us, gentle May! 
 
 ’T is thine to bring the rosy-tinted hours, 
 
 That youth delights in — age remembers still, 
 
 The early verdure, and the budding flowers, 
 
 The boon of promise, Summer will fulfil — 
 
64 
 
 To softly tinge the cheek, with healthful glow, 
 And give the spirits their elastic flow. 
 
 Thou shed’st thy blessings with a bounteous hand, 
 Dressing our prairies with thy gorgeous dyes, 
 And sending forth fresh choristers — a band 
 
 Of feathered minstrels — to the deep blue skies, 
 Pouring their offerings of love and song, 
 
 And teaching us a lesson pure and strong! 
 
 Thy genial influence toucheth mind and heart; 
 
 The tender impulse and the purpose high, 
 
 Quick into being at thy coming start, 
 
 And raise the soul from earth, beyond the sky; 
 Thy fragrant garlands Nature’s altars wreathe, 
 
 As our full hearts to God their incense breathe. 
 
 Turn where we will, and Earth’s rich offerings vie 
 In teachings to the soul of trust and love; 
 
 The towering Snowball lifts its head on high, 
 
 In grateful homage { to the things above; ’ 
 
65 
 
 While by its side the Lily of the Vale , 
 
 With ‘ Happiness Restored,’ repeats the tale! 
 
 The Myrtle , emblem of the heart’s deep ‘ Love, 
 Brings her white blossoms forth to deck the scene, 
 
 While Roses in variety would prove 
 
 How close to Faith ‘ Affection’s pledges ’ lean; 
 
 And the sweet Hawthorn , too, delights to ope 
 
 Her fairy blossoms now, to whisper ‘ Hope.’ 
 
 The blue-eyed Violet at this time would speak, 
 
 Of charms by ‘ Modesty ’ concealed from view: 
 
 While the soft ‘ blush that paints the maiden’s cheek,’ 
 In the White Rose Bud finds a symbol true. 
 
 E’en the sad Hyacinth her £ Grief’ imparts 
 
 To win the sympathy of generous hearts! 
 
 The fair Anemonie her tale would tell, 
 
 Of charms ‘ Forsaken,’ promises betrayed; 
 
 While the dark theme the Iris too might swell, 
 
 By ‘ Love unanswered,’ in some hapless maid — 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 But, lo! the Butter Cup , in patience strong, 
 
 Now breathes ‘Forgiveness’ of the Heart’s deep wrong. 
 
 The graceful Elm, our country’s common boast, 
 
 In all its pride throughout this month appears, 
 
 With classic branches, still admired most, 
 
 When Spring’s bright livery the forest wears, 
 
 To every mind a noble impulse brings, 
 
 And ‘the high virtues of the Patriot’ sings. 
 
 Season of Flowers! bright May! thy birth we hail, 
 As glad emotions thrill our grateful hearts, 
 
 And perfume-laden breezes waft the tale 
 
 That lingering Winter from our land departs; 
 Accept our tribute on thy natal day, 
 
 And shed thy smiles upon us, gentle May! 
 
67 
 
 Snowball. — c I look to things above. 
 
 This graceful flower which lifts its stately head above the sur¬ 
 rounding beauties of the garden, is seldom used in a Bouquet, unless 
 to ornament a room. It attracts our attention to its clusters of 
 pure white blossoms, by the expression of hope and adoration it 
 appears to wear, while looking up in proud confidence to Heaven. 
 
 The fairest flower that decks the field, 
 The brightest gem that glows, 
 
 To Time’s rude power alike must yield, 
 Sure as it beams or blows. 
 
 The purest thought that lights the eye, 
 The feeling that’s most dear, 
 
 The glow on Beauty’s cheek must die, 
 And fond hopes disappear. 
 
68 
 
 The sweetest visions which may light 
 The Poet’s heart and song, 
 
 Must own the desolating blight 
 Of withering Time ere long. 
 
 All earthly things must pass away, 
 
 And leave a ruined shrine; 
 
 But there are those which ne’er decay — 
 The holy, the divine! 
 
 Lily of the Valley. — ‘ Restored Happiness 
 
 Happiness is of the heart, and it is the mind which gives its tone 
 and coloring to nature. 
 
 There is a spell in every flower, 
 A sweetness in each spray; 
 
 And every simple bird has power 
 To please me with its lay. 
 
69 
 
 And there is music in each breeze 
 That sports along the glade; 
 
 The crystal dew-drops on the trees 
 Are gems, by Fancy made; 
 
 There’s gladness too in every thing, 
 
 And beauty over all, 
 
 And every where comes on with Spring, 
 A charm which cannot pall. 
 
 And I — my heart is full of joy, 
 
 And gratitude is there, 
 
 That He who might my life destroy 
 Has yet vouchsafed to spare. 
 
 The friends I once condemned, are now 
 Affectionate and true; 
 
 1 wept a pledged one’s broken vow, 
 
 But he proves faithful too. 
 
70 
 
 And now there is a happiness 
 In every thing I see, 
 
 Which bids my soul rise up and bless 
 The God who blesses me! 
 
 Myrtle. — ‘ Love? 
 
 An influence language cannot describe — which, in different de¬ 
 grees, is experienced, probably, once in every life. 
 
 A spell is on my Lyre! — in vain 
 I strive its chords to string 
 To gayer themes — one only strain 
 Its ceaseless echoes bring; 
 
 At morn — at noon — at eventide — 
 To change that note I’ve vainly tried. 
 
71 
 
 But, ah, it baffles every art, 
 
 My skilless hand applies! 
 
 Taking the lesson from my heart, 
 
 It ever thus replies — 
 
 ‘ Useless shall every effort prove; 
 
 Then be thy song of Love — still Love! ’ 
 
 A Bunch of Boses. — ‘ Pledge of Affection 
 
 Fame twines the Laurel — Friendship wreathes the Ivy — but 
 Love alone scatters Roses along our path. 
 
 Oh, tell me not that strangers praise 
 My lute’s unbidden song; 
 
 Its simplest and its proudest lays 
 To those I love belong; 
 
72 
 
 I never touch its strings unless 
 To cheer a pensive hour; 
 
 Or win a magic smile to bless 
 Its unpretending power; 
 
 The smiles Affection’s bps have wreathed, 
 Ten thousand words are worth 
 
 r 
 
 Of idle praise, if lightly breathed 
 By strangers to our hearth. 
 
 And Fame is hut a fearful sound, 
 To such a heart as mine; 
 
 My temples must remain unbound, 
 Or Friends the chaplet twine. 
 
 The Laurel wreath — or Ivy crown, 
 
 The envied meed of those 
 Who strive for Fame, I would lay down 
 To gain one fragrant Rose! 
 
73 
 
 For Roses form the coronal 
 
 Which Love’s own hand composes; 
 Then be my garland e’er so small, 
 
 If wholly made of Roses. 
 
 Hawthorn.— * Hope .' 1 
 
 Worshipped as a Divinity by the Heathen, and shrined by the 
 Christian on the altar of his faith. 
 
 In Life’s young morn, with buds and flowers, 
 Hope, smiling nymph, appears, 
 
 And sings to charm our opening hours, 
 
 A thousand siren airs! 
 
 And though her fairy buds decay, 
 And soon her flowerets fall; 
 
 She lures us on from day to day, 
 With strains that never pall! 
 
74 
 
 She hovers o’er the darkest cloud, 
 
 That Life’s sad pathway shades, 
 
 And e’en when tempests rage most loud, 
 
 Her voice the storm pervades! 
 
 She lights our gloom — she soothes our care — 
 She bids our fears depart, 
 
 Transmutes to gems each grief-fraught tear, 
 And binds the broken heart! 
 
 She glances o’er us from above, 
 
 The brightest star that’s given, 
 
 And guides us still through faith and love 
 To endless Peace in Heaven! 
 
75 
 
 The Violet. — ‘ Modesty 
 
 11 faut me cherchcr. 
 
 As that fair little guest, 
 
 Which in woman’s pure breast^ 
 Lies hid amid blushes and tears, 
 
 Doth the Violet grow, 
 
 Other flowers below — 
 
 Sweet emblem of Modesty’s fears! 
 
 For Modesty telleth, 
 
 To none where it dwelleth, 
 
 But waits to be sought for ere found; 
 Thus blossom unseen, 
 
 ’Neath their mantle of green, 
 
 Blue Violets close to the ground! 
 
76 
 
 A soft blush may steal 
 O’er the cheek, and reveal, 
 That Modesty hovereth there, 
 
 So the fresh breeze of Spring, 
 To the senses will bring 
 The perfume of Violets near! 
 
 White Rose Bud. — ‘ Maiden's Blush.' 
 
 ; An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.’ 
 
 Was it unholy? — surely no! 
 
 The tongue no purer thought can speak, 
 And from the heart no feeling flow, 
 
 More chaste than brightens woman’s cheek! 
 
 How oft we mark the deep-tinged rose 
 Soft mantling where the lily grew, 
 
 Nor deem that where such beauty blows, 
 
 A treacherous thorn’s concealed from view! 
 
77 
 
 That thorn may touch some tender vein, 
 And crimson o’er the wounded part; 
 
 Unheeded too, a transient pain 
 
 Will flush the cheek and thrill the heart! 
 
 On Beauty’s lids the gem-like tear 
 Oft sheds its evanescent ray, 
 
 But scarce is seen to sparkle, ere 
 
 ’T is chased by beaming smiles away! 
 
 Just so the Blush is formed, and flies, 
 
 Nor owns reflection’s calm control, 
 
 It comes — it deepens — fades — and dies — 
 A gush of feeling from the soul! 
 
 
78 
 
 Hyacinth. — ‘ Grief ," 1 1 Despondency .’ 
 
 The fabulous origin of this beautiful flower is too familiar to all 
 to be repeated here. But who has not, like Apollo, grieved over the 
 death or absence of a Hyacinth. 
 
 ’Tis vain — ’tis vain — I cannot find 
 In music, flowers, or books, a charm 
 To soothe my heart, or yield my mind 
 The joy once quick and warm, 
 
 That in each pulse, through every tone, 
 Proclaimed my bosom pleasure’s throne. 
 
 I cannot feel as once I felt, 
 
 But own contempt for most I find; 
 Too surely was the arrow dealt, 
 
 Which poisoned heart and mind; 
 
 It changed the last in every tone, 
 
 And almost turned the first to stone! 
 
 w 
 
79 
 
 And now I stand a thing apart, 
 Scorning the scenes I loved before, 
 With no communion for a heart 
 Struck deeply — to the core ; 
 
 And vain each effort, still, I find, 
 
 To wear the canker from my mind. 
 
 For, ah! the heart, — the only one, 
 
 Where mine its sorrows would repose, 
 The only mind which like my own 
 Has felt, and scorned the woes, 
 
 The false, the cold, inflict — is far, 
 
 And worshipped like some distant star. 
 
80 
 
 Anemonie. — ‘ Forsaken 
 
 There are few trials harder to bear than the consciousness that our 
 affection is no longer regarded by those who once loved us. None 
 are more depressing in their tendency. 
 
 Oh, never more in Feeling’s darkened halls, 
 Shall Fancy’s roseate light in beauty play; 
 A shadow of the past upon them falls, 
 
 To veil the future — frighten hope away! 
 
 And never more will thrills of joy awaken, 
 
 This saddened heart, from misery and despair; 
 The Spirit Lamp is from the altar taken, 
 
 And darkness shrouds the utter ruin there! 
 
81 
 
 Iris. — ‘ Unrequited Love' 
 THE GIFTED GIRL. 
 
 4 1 remember, while at Florence, to have witnessed the funeral 
 obsequies of a young girl of noble descent, long considered the most 
 beautiful and accomplished female in the kingdom. The deep 
 melancholy into which she fell, united to other circumstances, origi¬ 
 nated a report of her death being caused by the 44 maladie du cceur” ’ 
 
 Recollections of Italy. 
 
 They say I am a gifted creature—Fame 
 High in her temple hath enrolled my name, 
 
 And Beauty on my young, sad brow, hath set 
 Her rainbow-tinctured, radiant coronet! 
 
 And these have won for me — I know it well — 
 Envy and burning hatred often — where 
 I never injured; and my soul’s proud spell 
 Of Genius — reaps, alas! too oft but care. 
 And yet, sweet, gentle one! Thou modest Girl, 
 Who kindly gazest on each waving curl 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 Of floating jet, that circles round me — why 
 To view my liigh-wrought beauty dost thou sigh? 
 
 True, I have nobler gifts. The lofty spirit 
 Of a long line of high ones, I inherit; 
 
 And from the depths of feeling, and of thought, 
 Bright, bright creations has my fancy caught, 
 
 And imaged forth in all the wild, rich glow 
 Which painting breathes upon the spirit’s dream, 
 While music wakes her soothing soft and low 
 At my light bidding — like a ’whelming stream 
 Bushing to meet my fingers’ ardent touch, 
 
 She throngs the liarp-strings which I love so much; 
 Yes! these are mine—high gifts — Yet, fair one, 
 why 
 
 Bor these should thy pure bosom breathe a sigh ? 
 
 Are they not all? Ah, wherefore ask the tale, 
 
 Of blessings which have made my young cheek 
 pale ? 
 
83 
 
 For they have brought me in their glittering train, 
 Much of deep pleasure, but a world of pain. 
 Sweetly they soothe me in the hour of grief— 
 Yet ’tis a selfish joy e’en then, they throw 
 Over my saddened heart — delusive — brief— 
 And vanishing — like starlight’s milder glow,— 
 For in my joys as in my griefs — alone — 
 
 No bosom thrills responsive to my own! 
 
 Of all the crowds this busy world contains, 
 
 None join my mirth, or suffer in my pains! 
 
 Ah, gentle Girl, thou enviest gifts like mine! 
 Think what a dearer, holier boon, is thine! 
 
 Thy dove-like meekness tints affection’s cheek, 
 With purer language than the lips may speak; 
 Fame is my proud inheritance — thine own 
 Is Love — the noblest gift of bounteous Heaven. 
 O’er me, alas! it hath but vainly thrown 
 
 The spells of Genius. Think not they have 
 
 given 
 
84 
 
 To my heart happiness — the faithless dower 
 Of Beauty too, is worthless as a flower. 
 
 To win attachment each bright spell I Ve tided, 
 Yet none have loved me since my mother died! 
 
 And this it is to be exalted — high — 
 
 And wake in thoughtless breasts the envious sigh, 
 I am ‘a thing enskied,’ and it might seem, 
 
 Men view me as the phantom of a dream, 
 
 Or picture, such as my own pencil wrought 
 In other days — They gaze — and gaze — ad¬ 
 miring 
 
 My beauty — even while my name hath caught 
 The ear of many, for a time inspiring 
 Astonishment — that one so fair, so bright, 
 
 Should stand thus lonely in her spirit’s might — 
 And — coldly then they’ve turned away — nor 
 deemed 
 
 I was not all the statue that I seemed! 
 
85 
 
 Alas! few know the wretchedness which clings 
 Around a heart in which affection’s springs 
 Are flowing deep, unanswered, all unsought, 
 
 And bearing back the treasures they have brought 
 From hidden sources — holy, high, unseen, 
 Unthought of, by the common throng — who 
 gaze 
 
 Upon the lone one’s lofty brow serene, 
 
 O’er which no love-requited flush ere plays. 
 Oh, gentle Girl! Dost envy still these gifts ? 
 
 Its pitying gaze to mine thy mild eye lifts; 
 
 What says the spirit in my look that lies? 
 Beloved of Earth and Heaven! be satisfied — be 
 
 wise. 
 
86 
 
 Butter Cup. — 1 Forgiveness .’ 
 
 Our injuries, however deep, may be forgiven, although it is impos¬ 
 sible to erase them from the memory. 
 
 Farewell ! I forgive thee ! the word that is spoken, 
 At this moment of parting, shall never be broken, 
 And sincere is my wish that where’er thou may’st 
 go, 
 
 No sad recollection its shadow may throw 
 O’er that beautiful brow! not a sorrow arise, 
 
 To darken the lustre that beams from thine eyes; 
 But thy future be bright as the tints which at even 
 Beflect the sun’s rays on the curtains of Heaven. 
 
 Farewell! I have loved thee as few have been loved, 
 With a faith unsuspecting — a trust unreproved, 
 
 Till too late the hard lesson my bosom received, 
 
 And in scorn I retired, in silence I grieved; 
 
 i 
 
87 
 
 But’t is past — I forgive thee ! the anguish is o’er, 
 Though the heart which so loved thee can love thee 
 no more; 
 
 I can bid thee farewell, with a look and a tone, 
 
 As courteously calm, and cold as thine own. 
 
 Farewell! be thou blest on thy pathway through life, 
 Free from Care’s chilling blasts, and the billows of 
 strife, 
 
 Which Passion oft raises the young heart within, 
 
 To wreck its repose on the rough reefs of sin; 
 
 May no memories waken, when far thou shall be, 
 From the wide Western valley, to whisper of me, 
 
 To sigh o’er the past, and to make thee regret, 
 
 Thou hast not the power to wound — and forget 
 
 ♦ 
 
88 
 
 The American Elm. — ‘ Patriotism .’ 
 
 The love of our country, and an admiration of those, who, by their 
 virtues, their talents, and their noble actions, have assisted to il¬ 
 lustrate her history, and adorn her annals, cannot be too greatly en¬ 
 couraged in the young, or fostered in the more advanced! The 
 subjoined lines, recited by a little girl, one of the pupils at the Con¬ 
 vent of the Sacred Heart, were addressed to Major General Gaines, 
 when he visited the Seminary of that institution. 
 
 The song of triumph, and the wreath of Bays, 
 
 The hero’s meed in ancient classic days, 
 
 With all romantic chivalry endears, 
 
 Have passed like phantoms down the vale of years; 
 But cherished memories linger round us yet, 
 
 Like rays of glory when the sun has set, 
 
 To shed reflected lustre o’er the earth, 
 
 And gild the deeds of valor and of worth. 
 
 
 Thus, when combined, as in thine own we see, 
 All the young warrior might aspire to be, 
 
89 
 
 * 
 
 With all the civic virtues that impart, 
 
 Grace to the mind, and honor to the heart; 
 
 What soul exulting doth not pant to bring 
 Some simple offering o’er thy path to fling ? 
 
 For even childhood in its happy hours, 
 
 Would twine for thee a garland of sweet flowers. 
 With glad emotion then, we haste to prove, 
 
 How patriot worth, and daring deeds we love ; 
 And with one voice of earnest welcome greet 
 Our honored guest to Virtue’s calm retreat. 
 
 Hero of Erie ! lo ! around thee stand, 
 
 The free-born daughters of our common land, 
 With hearts, like roses on our western plains, 
 Then' incense flinging to the name of Gaines. 
 
90 
 
 BOUQUET No. 6. 
 
 BOUQUET FOR JUNE, COMPOSED OF THE HOXEYSUCKLE - FUCHSIA-AURICULAS 
 -EVENING PRIMROSE -WALL-FLOWER —PINKS- HEARTSEASE, OR 
 PAXSY - NASTURTIUM - ICE-PLANT - YELLOW ROSE - 
 WHITE JESSAMIN-BAY BLOSSOM. 
 
 Significations : — Wedded Love — Confiding Love — Painting — Inconstancy — Fidelity — Pare 
 and lively affection — Think of me — Passing away — Estrangement — Emile agaui - 
 Do not give me pain — Reward of Merit. 
 
 Bright June ! amid thy fragrant bowers, 
 
 Of deepening shades and full-blown flowers, 
 A thousand charms we find; 
 
 And in the gentle murmuring, 
 
 Thy placid brooks and breezes bring, 
 
 We meet that peace which Hope would fling 
 Upon the troubled mind! 
 
V 
 
 \ 
 
 * 
 
91 
 
 We own it in the soft repose, 
 
 That marks thy dewy evening’s close, 
 And in thy tranquil days; 
 
 We find it in thy deep blue skies, 
 
 And clouds whose gorgeous beauty vies, 
 To wake, as do the rainbow’s dyes, 
 
 Our gratitude and praise. 
 
 And when that Bow of promise tells 
 Where boundless mercy ever dwells, 
 
 We lift our thoughts on high, 
 Assured though care her billows roll, 
 Like surging waters o’er the soul, 
 
 A voice will yet their power control, 
 
 And hush each rising sigh! 
 
 And in thine emblem flowers we seek 
 The moral — Nature’s lessons speak 
 Forever to our hearts — 
 
 The clustering Honeysuckle shows, 
 
 How { wedded love ’ united grows, 
 Sustaining still the joys and woes, 
 
 Which life to each imparts — 
 
92 
 
 The Fuchsia would the theme prolong, 
 
 And gaily weave her graceful song 
 Of still c confiding love ; ’ 
 
 While bright Auriculas reveal 
 How Art from Nature oft may steal 
 A lesson the sad heart to heal, 
 
 And ‘ Painting’s ’ power would prove ! 
 
 The Evening-Primrose too might teach 
 How vain the effort, joy to reach, 
 ‘Inconstancy!’ is thine! 
 
 The Wall-Flower lifts her humble head, 
 
 As far around her odors spread, 
 
 And through Life’s darkest hours would shed 
 ‘Fidelity’ divine! 
 
 And see, to swell the lengthened limts 
 Of Flora’s chain, these brilliant Pinks , 
 
 This beautiful Heartsease ; 
 
 Of pure affection, lively, strong, 
 
 The first would weave a joyous song, 
 
 Whose cadence Echo will prolong, 
 
 Till borne away by these; 
 
93 
 
 ‘ Oh, think of me,’ the Pansy cries, 
 
 And to the sad Nasturtium flies, 
 
 Who ‘ passing still away,’ 
 
 Just lifts her drooping head and sighs; 
 While cold and careless by her lies, 
 ‘Estrangement’ painted in her eyes, 
 
 The Ice-plant — heartless — gay ; 
 
 And now the Yellow Rose behold! 
 
 Her petals soft and slow unfold, 
 
 Inviting 1 smiles again ; ’ 
 
 While the White Jessamin would teach 
 A lesson in the ceaseless speech, 
 
 She ever makes to all, to each, 
 
 ‘ Oh, do not cause me pain!’ 
 
 While far around her perfumes breathe, 
 The Bay her blossoms fair would wreathe, 
 In chaplets for the brow; 
 
 Where merit a reward would claim, 
 
 Or Virtue crown some honored name, 
 
 Or genius raise to power and fame, 
 
 Such as her spells avow! 
 
94 
 
 Season of beauty and of mirth, 
 
 That danceth o’er the laughing earth, 
 Thy richest gifts adorn ; — 
 Accept the tribute we would bring, 
 The full heart’s grateful offering, 
 
 As Summer’s lavish gifts we sing, 
 To greet her natal morn. 
 
Honeysuckle. — ‘ Wedded Love.' 
 
 The clinging tendencies of these beautiful flowers, and the striking 
 dependence upon each other which they exhibit, seem admirably 
 calculated to portray the confidence and affection that should exist in 
 married life. 
 
 Come, rouse thee, dearest! ’t is not well 
 To let the spirit brood 
 Thus darkly o’er the cares that swell 
 Life’s current to a flood! 
 
 As brooks, and torrents, rivers, all 
 Increase the gulf in which they fall, 
 Such thoughts by gathering up the rills 
 Of lesser grief, spread real ills; 
 
 And with their gloomy shades conceal 
 The landmarks Hope would else reveal! 
 
96 
 
 Come, rouse thee now! I know thy mind, 
 And would its strength awaken; 
 
 Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind,— 
 
 Strange, thou should’st be thus shaken! 
 But rouse afresh each energy, 
 
 And be what Heaven intended thee; 
 
 Shake from thy soul this wearying weight, 
 And prove thy spirit firmly great; 
 
 I would not see thee bend below 
 The angry storms of earthly wo! 
 
 Full well I know the generous soul 
 Which warms thee into life, 
 
 Each spring which can its powers control 
 
 A 
 
 Familiar to thy wife — 
 
 For deem’st thou she had stooped to bind 
 Her fate unto a common mind? 
 
 The eagle-like ambition nurs’d 
 From childhood in her heart had first 
 
97 
 
 Consumed with its Promethean flame 
 Its shrine — than sunk her so to shame. 
 
 Then, rouse thee, dearest, from the dream 
 That fetters now thy powers; 
 
 Shake off this gloom! Hope sheds a beam 
 To gild each cloud that lowers — 
 
 And though, at present, seems so far 
 The wished for goal — a guiding star, 
 
 With steady ray would light thee on 
 Until its utmost bound be won, — 
 
 That quenchless ray thou ’It ever prove, 
 
 In fond, undying, wedded love! 
 
98 
 
 Fuchsia. — ‘ Confiding Love! 
 
 It is impossible to love long when there is a want of confidence. 
 Respect for the character, and a firm reliance upon the principles, 
 can alone insure the continuance of attachment. 
 
 I offer thee no pledge! I ask for none 
 To bind thy love in endless constancy; 
 
 I only know, that what affection won, 
 
 Will keep my heart still faithful unto thee! 
 
 I ask thee not, when brighter eyes are near, 
 
 And lips more lovely gently smile on thee, 
 
 To turn unconscious from the young and fair, 
 And give thine undivided thoughts to me. 
 
 Free as the eaglet be thy spirit’s wing; 
 
 Upward and onward its unwearied flight; 
 
 No cloud, no fetter, would my proud heart bring 
 To check its progress to the realms of light! 
 
99 
 
 But, oh, should Sorrow dim the brightening scene, 
 Or Disappointment’s shade upon thee fall — 
 Then think what fond devotion mine hath been, 
 And still, beloved one! on its fervor call! 
 
 Mine the dear privilege, where’er thou art, 
 
 To mark thy course, and glory in thy fame, 
 While Love’s deep fount, o’erflowing from my 
 heart, 
 
 Pours its full stream in blessings on thy name. 
 
100 
 
 Auricula. — ‘ Painting .* 
 
 The refining influence of the Arts is, perhaps, never more percep¬ 
 tible than in those who cultivate a taste for Painting. 
 
 Celestial Art ! most touching, most sublime, 
 
 And most ennobling — I could worship thee! 
 Creative power, that from the wrecks of time, 
 
 Can save and renovate whate’er there be 
 Of good, or beautiful, or great in life, 
 
 And Phcenix-like, give back their charms to earth, 
 I hail thee, Painting! victor in each strife, 
 
 And claim thy triumphs as I sing thy worth. 
 Where’er thou comest darkness fades away, 
 
 And even dullness owns thy magic sway! 
 
101 
 
 Evening Primrose. — ‘ Inconstancy .’ 
 
 Folly’s chief ingredient when creating a Flirt or Coxcomb. 
 
 Ever changing — never true — 
 Seeking still for something new! 
 
 Like the Honey-bee you rove, 
 
 Every blossom’s charms to prove; 
 Culling sweets from all you see, 
 
 With a tireless wing, and free; 
 Wasting life’s most precious hours, 
 ’Midst the world’s delusive flowers; 
 Still contented to enjoy, 
 
 Present pleasures till they cloy; 
 
 Hope and all its treasures losing, 
 Youth’s best blessings still abusing, — 
 Pause, then ! — and your portrait see 
 Imaged thus, Inconstancy. 
 
102 
 
 Wall-Flower. — 1 Fidelity in Misfortune.' 
 
 The fidelity that survives the misfortunes of those we love, is ad¬ 
 mirably typified in the rich and durable perfume that renders the 
 Wall-Flower so general a favorite. 
 
 Yes ! I am thine; though years may fling 
 Their trophies on thy toilsome way, 
 
 And youthful hopes may all take wing, 
 
 And cease to shed for thee a ray; 
 
 Though foes assail, and hatred lay 
 Its snares thy manly heart to wring, 
 
 And Pleasure’s light fade day by day, 
 
 Yet still, that proud and wayward thing, 
 This woman's heart round thee shall twine, 
 Its hopes — love — life, — Thine, ever thine ! 
 
103 
 
 Pink. — ‘ Lively and pure Affection .’ 
 
 When this sentiment really exists, language seems superfluous 
 to make it known to the one who has inspired it. Whether it is as 
 thoroughly appreciated as understood may be doubted. 
 
 I ’ll not deny I love thee well, 
 
 Though truth we need not always tell , 
 
 For when, as in this odorous Pink, 
 
 Such fragrance breathes — ’t were vain I think, 
 To say that it is sweet! 
 
 ’T were vain to whisper that the rose, 
 
 In loveliest colors ever glows; 
 
 Or that the blush on woman’s cheek, 
 
 Reveals the thought she would not speak; 
 Such truths, ah, why repeat? 
 
 I know not, Love! I ask not why 
 I ever turn to thine mine eye, 
 
 When Feeling’s rays within it play, 
 
 Unless I mean that it should say, 
 
104 
 
 What well thou knowest now; 
 
 That true affection, lively, bright, 
 
 Lends to each beam its own pure light, 
 And bids it fondly turn to tell, 
 
 The truth that in its flashings dwell; 
 
 That truth then why avow ? — 
 
 That shrined within my bosom lives; 
 
 One thought, which to each action gives 
 Its impulse strong, its movement free, 
 And guides or checks its destiny; 
 
 One thought, which still must be 
 The pivot, upon which revolve 
 Each strong emotion, high resolve, 
 
 And feelings which are pure and good — 
 Already thou hast understood — 
 
 ’Tis one long thought of thee. 
 
105 
 
 Pansy, or Heartsease. — ‘ Think of me still .' 
 
 What heart does not cling to the hope of being remembered by 
 those it has cherished, when the curtain of death has for a time 
 separated the objects once so closely united! 
 
 Think of me still, when life is o’er — 
 Its fitful fever ended; 
 
 And thou the form shall see no more 
 Which once so fondly tended, 
 
 To wake thy smiles of tranquil mirth, 
 And shed a halo round thy hearth. 
 
 Think of me still! I could not bear 
 That thou should’st cease to love 
 My memory, when no more I share 
 The pangs ’tis thine to prove, 
 
106 
 
 The pleasures thou must feel alone, 
 The triumphs thou at times must own. 
 
 Think of me still! E’en joys of Heaven 
 Could compensate no more, 
 
 For pains thus to my bosom given, 
 Than bid them not endure; 
 
 And still, beloved one! I shall be 
 A watchful guardian unto thee! 
 
107 
 
 Nasturtium. — ‘ Passing away.' 
 
 Who has not speculated upon the brevity of life, until the fair 
 things of earth seemed rapidly passing from his possession ? The 
 following stanzas were written on a rainy day in September. 
 
 The Summer’s leaves were fair and bright, 
 But now upon their boughs they fade; 
 Already has the withering blight 
 Of Autumn, ruthless havoc made; 
 
 The gay, the beautiful, the pride 
 Of August droop, — and some have died! 
 
 The sun in splendor rose to-day, 
 
 His glories beamed far o’er the world; 
 
 But clouds arose, obscured each ray, 
 
 And raindrops soon the flowers impearled; 
 Those flowers, how sweet! yet even they 
 Begin their early, sure decay! 
 
108 
 
 And thus it is with all fair things, 
 
 All that we love and prize the most; 
 
 A season — aye, a day oft brings 
 
 The withering blight, and they are lost; 
 
 Gay thoughts — high hopes — deep feelings, all 
 Must wear the dark funereal pall! 
 
 And Life! — aye Life is here portrayed, 
 
 It dawns like Summer’s brightest leaf, 
 
 Is hke this morning’s sky arrayed 
 In beauties evanescent — brief — 
 
 For Sorrow’s clouds he thick and soon 
 As evening’s shadows follow noon. 
 
 For even hke those drooping flowers 
 Fast hastening to the silent tomb, 
 
 A few short days — a few short hours — 
 
 And all things lose their transient bloom; 
 The friends who read tills strain, — and I,— 
 Must follow, — hke a passing sigh. 
 
109 
 
 Ice Plant. — £ Estrangement .' 1 
 
 How painful is it to meet tlie eyes that once sought ours with af¬ 
 fection, and see nothing but coldness or indifference in their gaze! 
 yet how often in life do we encounter such. 
 
 So cold ! so cold! and can it be 
 
 That I am nothing now to thee ? 
 
 Those lips, whose ‘wreathed smiles’ of yore, 
 
 Promised affection deep as pure; 
 
 Those eyes, which then to mine would turn, 
 
 * 
 
 Their simplest wish or thought to learn, 
 Have now a new expression caught, — 
 
 For, ah, the heart with feeling fraught 
 In other days, is chilled and changed, 
 
 And we forever are — Estranged. 
 
110 
 
 Yellow Rose. — * Smile again .’ 
 
 The smiles of those who are dear to us incite to exertion, quite as 
 surely as the absence of them depresses and discourages. 
 
 I touch my wayward lute no more, 
 Unless thou’lt smile again, love! 
 
 For feebler far than all before 
 
 Would be the heartless strain, love! 
 
 Whene’er to catch wild Fancy’s ray, 
 
 I ever truly try, love, 
 
 ’Tis but to mark Affection’s play, 
 
 In thy approving eye, love! 
 
 The cherished hope then wither not, 
 Which tunes at times my lute, love; 
 
 But yield the boon so fondly sought, 
 
 Or, ah, it must be mute, love! 
 
Ill 
 
 Then smile, ah, smile, if but to bless 
 The wish to please, though vain, love; 
 My lute’s forever hushed — unless, 
 Thou’lt smile upon its strain, love! 
 
112 
 
 White Jasmine. — ‘ Forbear to wound’ 1 Do not 
 
 give pain. 
 
 I cannot better introduce the following stanzas, than by a quotation 
 from Lady Blessington: — ‘ Alas! women look more to effect than 
 cause; they all feel, but how few can reason! and men, whose duty, 
 whose interest it is to reflect on this peculiarity, seldom give them¬ 
 selves the trouble to think on the subject until it is too late. I be¬ 
 lieve it is Fontenelle who says, that women have a fibre more in the 
 heart, and a cell less in the brain, than men ; — it is this fibre that 
 responds to the nerve where agonies are born; so that all that wo¬ 
 men want in reasoning powers, they make up for in feeling.’ — "Will 
 men remember this, and forbear to wound us ? 
 
 They say that the heart which to woman is given, 
 Than man’s sterner organ has one fibre more; 
 From the hour of her birth, thus predestined by 
 Heaven 
 
 More acutely to feel — greater ills to endure: 
 
 Yet the balance of power, Nature’s law to maintain, 
 Is awarded, proud man, in one cell more of brain! 
 
113 
 
 And we know how’t is woman’s proud practice too 
 oft, 
 
 To be pining in sorrow, she fain would conceal; 
 To wear the glad smile, and to carry aloft 
 
 The bright glow of triumph her heart cannot feel; 
 With a jest to her bosom unshrinking she ’ll clasp 
 A wreath of false flowers, concealing the asp ! 
 
 We know they all feel; — even she who can throw 
 No veil o’er the anguish that melts in a tear; 
 
 But whose lighter emotions of joy and of woe, 
 
 In the gem-woven mantle of April appear; 
 
 Whose quick-fleeting griefs, bursting forth from her 
 eyes, 
 
 The next passing zephyr just kisses, — and dries! 
 
 But this pool of Bethsaida, which blesses and heals, 
 In some higher natures can seldom be stirred; 
 And the heart that most keenly and tenderly feels, 
 
 Is that from whose depths not a murmur is heard! 
 
 8 
 
114 
 
 Not an echo awakens the silence to break! 
 
 Not a sigh bubbles up, the dark waters to shake! 
 
 Aye ! ‘ the fountain of tears ’ seemeth locked in that 
 soul, 
 
 And its wrongs, and its griefs to the world are un¬ 
 known ; 
 
 For its waves are like lava, which boil as they roll, 
 Then scathe and destroy — or turn into stone ! 
 
 Oh, ’tis fearful the floodgates of feeling to keep, 
 
 In a bosom that suffers, yet dares not to weep! 
 
 Gifted man in his pride, as he steps o’er the earth 
 Elate with his learning, and vain of his power, 
 Will stoop to contemplate the sweetness and worth 
 Of God’s best creation ; will build her a bower 
 Which he wins her to bless with her smiles and her 
 love, 
 
 And enshrines her his own as a boon from above! 
 
115 
 
 He will bask in her charms, from the light of her eye 
 Catch fancies and feelings he ne’er knew before; 
 
 He will mix in her pleasures, as each hurries by, 
 And chase the light ills it is her’s to endure ; 
 
 But, alas! the 1 one fibre ’ he cannot attain, 
 
 Denies him the power to join in her pain. 
 
 And too oft to caprice he attributes a tone, 
 
 Or a look, or a sigh, which she cannot control; 
 
 And the woe preordained she should suffer alone, 
 
 Is barbed by his sneer as it enters her soul; 
 
 Then touched are the waters and dark is the fate, 
 
 Which is destined, alas ! on her future to wait! 
 
 Ye proud sons of reason ! oh, pause on your way, 
 And reflect, e’er too late, on the pain ye may give ;* 
 
 ’ T is woman's to suffer , — be it your’s to allay 
 
 By forbearance each grief she is doomed to re¬ 
 ceive, — 
 
 Hold sacred the weakness with loveliness born, 
 
 Nor forget the rose owns both fragrance and thorn. 
 
116 
 
 The Bay Blossom. —‘ Reward of Merit' 
 
 From the purity of its color, and the durability of its odor, this 
 flower should typify feelings of the highest order ; and Affection can 
 well bestow it, in the spirit of prophecy, upon the young and the 
 gifted, who are scaling the steeps of Ambition’s toilsome path. — But 
 Love ever trembles lest it be replaced by Fame. 
 
 Do not forget me—Fame, I know, 
 
 Will twine her chaplet round thy brow, 
 And stranger voices yet proclaim, 
 
 With loud applause thine honored name! 
 The good, the great, will speak thy praise, 
 And smiling Beauty’s flattering gaze, 
 
 Thy prouder boon will be ; — and then, 
 Perhaps, thou wilt forget me; when 
 Success will bid thee still pursue 
 Ambition’s phantom form untrue, 
 
117 
 
 And vain too oft her glittering plumes, 
 
 As false the wreath that round her blooms! 
 
 Forgive me ! but while others crowd 
 Around thee with their plaudits loud, 
 
 I still a silent part must bear, 
 
 Nor tell my hopes, nor breathe one fear 
 To chill thy sanguine spirit, — while 
 All others greet thee with a smile; 
 
 But oh, they will not feel like me, 
 
 That pride, that interest deep, in thee, 
 
 Which chains the tongue, and dyes the cheek; 
 When thy loved praises others speak, 
 
 They will not dread like me to find, 
 
 That place by thee to Fame assigned, 
 
 Which I — but no my prayer shall be 
 Ever as now —Remember me! 
 
118 
 
 BOUQUET No. 7 . 
 
 BOUQUET FOB JULY, COMPOSED OF THE WATER STAB-THE OLEANDER - 
 MYOSOTIS-TRUMPET FLOWER-TREFOIL-BALM-YELLOW LILY — 
 HELIOTROPE - YELLOW CARNATION - COREOPSIS - WALNUT 
 LEAF-AND TIGER FLOWER. 
 
 Significations : — Love in Death — Warning — Forget me not — Separation — Trust in Provi¬ 
 dence — Sympathy — Coquetry — Promised Happiness — Disdain — Love at first sight — 
 Power of Intellect — My pride shall protect me ! 
 
 A fragrant bunch of buds and flowers, 
 I’ve culled for you to-day, sir; 
 
 And hope, to cheer your summer hours, 
 You ’ll read my simple lay, sir. 
 
 With fair Perdita’s winning art, 
 
 In each a thought I twine, sir, 
 
 And fain a moral would impart 
 In each alternate line, sir. 
 

 
/ 
 
119 
 
 And first, I’ve placed The Water Star , 
 Which tells of ‘ Love in death,’ sir; 
 
 Then Oleander , — seen afar, 
 
 With ‘ warning ’ on its breath, sir; 
 
 The Myosotis whispers low, 
 
 Oh, pray £ forget me not,’ sir ; 
 
 While this fair Trumpet Flower would show 
 ‘ The parted lover’s lot,’ sir; 
 
 The humble Trefoil next I’ve brought, 
 
 Of ‘ Trust in God’ ’t would speak, sir; 
 
 Then Balm , to all with promise fraught, 
 
 Who ‘ sympathy ’ would seek, sir; 
 
 The Yellow Lily next I place, 
 
 ‘ A coquette gay is she,’ sir; 
 
 And fair Heliotrope , whose grace 
 Means ‘Happiness to be,’ sir; 
 
 This stern Carnation , yellow, bright, 
 
 ‘Disdain’ would here repeat, sir; 
 
 While Coreopsis , ‘ Love at sight,’ 
 
 Your laughing eye would meet, sir; 
 
120 
 
 The Walnut Leaf ,, so well defined, 
 
 In language strong would tell, sir, 
 
 ‘ The power of Intellect,’ and find 
 Each heart admit its spell, sir; 
 
 The Tiger Flower , with haughty mien, 
 Your arts would next deride, sir, 
 
 For on her queenly brow is seen, 
 
 ‘ Protected by my pride,’ sir; 
 
 And thus a bunch of buds and flowers, 
 I’ve culled for you to-day, sir; 
 
 Accept, to cheer your idle hours, 
 
 The Bouquet and its lay, sir! 
 
 
121 
 
 c- 
 
 The Water Star-Flower.— £ Love in deaths ‘ Trust' 
 
 This flower grows in low and marshy places, and abounds among 
 the swamps of Florida. — I once saw one, which was gathered by a 
 young officer, during the terrible campaign of ’36, and sent in a 
 letter to his mother. 
 
 Thou symbol Flower! whose star-like beauty glows. 
 
 Serene and pure, ’mid dread miasma’s breath, 
 And doth with touching tenderness disclose 
 The vivid sentiment of ‘ Love in death,’ 
 
 Be to my heart a messenger, and bear 
 Its gentle feelings to my mother dear! 
 
 Tell her the soldier’s weary foot has brushed 
 Slowly, but surely, past thy modest charms, 
 Sparing the fragile thing so lightly crushed, 
 
 To whisper quiet to her dread alarms; 
 
 To breathe a hope when darkest dangers lower, 
 
 And point a Christian moral, simple flower! 
 
122 
 
 Tell her the hand that sheltered thee from harm, 
 Surrounds her wanderer with its power supreme, 
 And. while the patriot’s thoughts gush free and warm, 
 Sweet emblem flower, beneath thy star-like gleam, 
 A holier beauty to his soul hath given, 
 
 With thoughts of her, — undying trust in Heaven. 
 
123 
 
 Oleander. — ‘ Warning 
 
 Often may a timely word, kindly spoken, prevent repentance. 
 
 Though brighter eyes should woo thee 
 With hopes that might beguile 
 The grief that clingeth to thee, 
 
 And bid those sad bps smile 
 With mirth’s delusive beam, 
 
 Which gieameth and is gone, 
 
 Like trusting youth’s first dream, 
 
 Which leaves the heart so lone! 
 
 Though fairer lips should win thee, 
 
 In pleasure’s haunts to rove; 
 
 Lighting the ray within thee, 
 
 With beams of earth-born love; 
 
 Though Beauty’s self should lure thee, 
 
 To play the worldling’s part, 
 
 Let one thought hover o’er thee, 
 
 An segis to thy heart! 
 
124 
 
 Let one light touch awaken 
 Reflection’s sacred power; 
 
 The chord not rudely shaken 
 Will in thy darkest hour 
 Make music, which will hft. 
 
 Thy soul earth’s cares above, 
 
 And leave it still the gift, 
 
 The boon of heavenly love — 
 
 A love which from the sky 
 Calls wandering spirits back, 
 
 With feelings pure and high 
 To tread that starry track; 
 
 Then wake, young dreamer! wake ! 
 
 That lofty flight pursue; 
 
 Ah, all is on the stake, 
 
 Or — misery in view ! 
 
125 
 
 Myosotis. — 1 Forget me not!’' 
 
 The prayer of every heart which has loved ! 
 
 Forget not—ah, forget not me , 
 
 When evening shades descend! 
 
 For then my thoughts still turn to thee, 
 My fondly cherished friend, 
 
 As in those days of guileless youth, 
 When this was deemed our test of truth. 
 
 And now the twilight never falls 
 Upon our dreary earth, 
 
 But to my heart it still recalls, 
 
 Those days of hope and mirth, 
 
 When filled with youth, and winged with glee, 
 Months flew Like hours, to thee and me. 
 
126 
 
 Ah, then in times of hope and gladness. 
 
 In moments of despair, 
 
 Amidst thy bosom’s joy or sadness, 
 
 In thought let me appear; 
 
 An image of the past I ’ll be, 
 
 And fondly breathe — Forget not me! 
 
127 
 
 Trumpet-Flower. — £ Separation .’ 
 
 To the separated who love, there are a thousand tongues, unheard 
 by other ears, that whisper of the absent; and the low melodies of 
 Nature, breathed upon the soul, speak to it of sympathy with the 
 unseen but ever present object of its adoration. 
 
 ’T is past ! and we no more may meet, 
 For years, — perhaps, forever; 
 
 But Memory’s records, sad and sweet, 
 Can lose their influence, never. 
 
 The treasured word — the cherished tone — 
 The glance so dear — so kind — 
 
 The thoughts, exchanged with thee alone, 
 Can ne’er oblivion find. 
 
128 
 
 Traditions of the Heart, concealed 
 From all the world beside, 
 
 By sympathy to thee revealed, 
 Between us must abide. 
 
 Then blessings on thee, pure and bright, 
 Still prays the faithful hearted, 
 
 Whom still thy virtue’s starry light 
 Will guide, — though we are parted. 
 
 « 
 
129 
 
 Trefoil. — { Trust in Providence .’ 
 
 There are moments in the life of every one, when doubt and dis¬ 
 appointment brood darkly over the spirit; but the heart which has 
 learned to hope, soon shakes off its despair, and turns with renewed 
 trust to the promises of a Divine Revelation. 
 
 When life is new, and gladness springs 
 Unbidden from its myriad strings. 
 
 We seldom, speculative, pause, 
 
 To trace the feeling to the cause, 
 
 But rush along our busy way, 
 
 Enjoying youth’s unclouded day, 
 
 For which perchance no thanks arise, 
 
 To Him who reigns beyond the skies. 
 
 But let the sunshine be withdrawn, 
 
 And sadness shade the young heart’s dawn; 
 
 9 
 
130 
 
 Let sickness pale the roseate cheek, 
 
 And care its early lesson speak; 
 
 Let disappointment, like a pall, 
 
 Upon some fond hope darkly fall; 
 
 And, oh! how soon the heart will throw 
 Before His throne its first deep woe! 
 
 ’Tis then the Christian’s life begins; — 
 
 The struggle for the prize he wins, 
 Commences with the shock that first 
 Doth on Be flection’s slumber burst; 
 
 And each rude blow thereafter given, 
 
 Uplifts the awakened soul to Heaven, 
 
 And bids it seek for comfort there, 
 
 In hope — in gratitude — in prayer. 
 
 And soon — when griefs come thickening fast, 
 Its anchor there ’twill firmly cast, 
 
 A sure support, a prop to find, 
 
 When gloom or care subdue the mind; 
 
131 
 
 Or who could bear the sad decay 
 Of friendship — withering day by day ? 
 
 The rained hopes? the blighted dreams? 
 The darkening of affection’s beams, 
 
 Which hourly on life’s lengthened path, 
 Are strewed like leaves by Winter’s wrath, 
 Flung reckless on some cheerless way 
 Which once was bright, and fair, and gay ? 
 
 Or when that pang, more keen than all, 
 
 On the fond breast is doomed to fall, 
 Bidding its inmost thrillings wake 
 To suffering, for another's sake; 
 
 When sorrow, with its mildew touch, 
 
 Has changed a face we cherished much; 
 And bowed beneath care’s angiy storm, 
 We see some prized and noble form; 
 
 Ah, then, we raise our thoughts above, 
 And ask in dread, — Can God be love ? 
 
132 
 
 Then darkness wraps us as a veil, 
 The steadfast hope begins to fail, 
 
 And startled by the doubt we turn, 
 To see the lamp of Faith yet burn, 
 High ‘on the hills of promise,’ where 
 Its undimmed lustre shall appear — 
 
 A beacon e’er, to reassure 
 
 The true of heart — and we adore. 
 
133 
 
 Balm. — ‘ Sympathy’ 
 
 There is a charm in human sympathy which all must at some 
 period have experienced ; woven in the moment of suffering, its in¬ 
 fluence remains unbroken through life. 
 
 Would that the Muse had power to steal, 
 
 Each trace of suffering from thy brow, 
 
 And bid thy heart less keenly feel 
 The agony that wrings it now! 
 
 Would that the sympathy of friends might be 
 A light to guide — a charm to solace thee! 
 
 Then would thy future glide along, 
 
 Serenely tranquil to the last; 
 
 And still in conscious virtue strong, 
 
 Thy heart forget the mournful past, 
 
 Save, as a trial to that proud heart given, 
 Winning thee friends on earth, and hopes of 
 Heaven. 
 
134 
 
 Yellow Lily. — ‘ Coquetry 
 
 I have little to say in palliation of the fashionable amusement 
 of coquetry, though even that may serve to ‘ point a moral.’ 
 
 Gaudy Flower ! Gay Coquette ! 
 
 Brilliant are the charms you wear; 
 Fairer seldom have been met, 
 
 Sooner few can disappear. 
 
 Gorgeous Flower! I like you not, 
 Changing with each passing breath, 
 Shortly to be quite forgot, 
 
 Sinking down in certain death. 
 
 But, e’en thou perchance may speak 
 A moral e’er thou leav’st the scene, 
 And Beauty’s fan, but fading cheek 
 See itself in thee I ween! 
 
135 
 
 Teach how swift the sure decay, 
 
 Which leaves no simple trace behind, 
 
 Steals all glittering charms away, 
 
 Save those which grace the well-stored mind; 
 Save the treasures of the heart, 
 
 Youth has little e’er to boast; 
 
 Wisdom, Virtue, ne’er depart 
 
 Though Beauty’s transient spell be lost; 
 They still triumph, still engage 
 Affection and respect in age. 
 
136 
 
 Heliotrope. — * Promised Happiness 
 
 What happiness is so perfect as that produced by the constant 
 presence of the person most dear to us. 
 
 Cara mia! Twilight falleth 
 O’er the earth in shadows deep, 
 "While my spirit fondly calleth 
 Unto thine our tryst to keep, 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
 Cara mia! Love exchangeth 
 Hohest vows at this dim hour, 
 Which, though far the true heart rangeth, 
 Bind it with a mystic power; 
 
 Cara mia ! Cara mia ! 
 
137 
 
 Cara mia! Daylight dieth; 
 
 Stars are gleaming in the sky; 
 Gently now the night-breeze sigheth, 
 Bearing each low word on high; 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
 Cara mia! Sorrow cometh, 
 
 With the darkness o’er my heart, 
 Though assured where’er it roameth, 
 Love for thee can ne’er depart; 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
 Cara mia! Night advanceth; 
 
 See, the moon has sought the West, 
 While upon the wave-top danceth, 
 Each pale beam that sinks to rest; 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
r 
 
 138 
 
 Cara mia! Dawn appeareth, 
 
 And my bark is on the sea; 
 Hark! the signal note thou heareth, 
 Calls thy lover far from thee; 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
 Cara mia! Hope entwineth, 
 
 Buds of promise round my heart, 
 From whose colors Faith defineth, 
 Soon we ’ll meet, no more to part; 
 Cara mia! Cara mia! 
 
139 
 
 Yellow Carnation. — £ Disdain .’ 
 
 'To feel that we can no longer confide in one whom we have loved 
 and trusted, is most painful; but when contempt for the individual is 
 blended with our loss of respect for his character, the sentiment of 
 Disdain, to which we yield, is one of the heart’s most bitter trials. 
 
 Away! — I would not gaze upon 
 A form so bright and fair, 
 
 And feel my shrinking spirit shun 
 The being once so dear! 
 
 I may not court the bitter pain, 
 
 Which, looking on thy brow, 
 
 Would mingle with the high disdain, 
 
 My heart awards thee now. 
 
 Away ! — away! — too well I’ve learned 
 Thy faithlessness to know, 
 
 And deeply mourned, though proudly spurned. 
 Thy falsehood — Lost one! go! 
 
140 
 
 Coreopsis. — ‘Love at first sight’ 
 
 In spite of the ridicule so apt to be indulged at the mention of 
 this possibility, it is a circumstance which, I at least believe, fre¬ 
 quently occurs in life. 
 
 When first I gazed upon that brow, 
 
 Where thought its impress strong had set, 
 I felt my haughty spirit how 
 
 As though it had its masters met 
 
 And when I marked thy kindling eye 
 Give forth its genius-flash of power, 
 
 My heart in one long deep-drawn sigh, 
 Proclaimed ’t was captive from that hour. 
 
141 
 
 Walnut-Leaf. — ‘ The Power of Intellect 
 
 A spell more frequently felt than understood! 
 
 * 
 
 He was a man to worship, and to dread — 
 
 A being beautiful, mysterious — one 
 From whose fair brow all trace had early fled, 
 Of youth’s unheeding recklessness, while on 
 Its polished surface gleamed, as from a throne, 
 The power of Intellect, sublimely bright; 
 Repose and majesty were there, and shone 
 Serenely forth, with genius in its might 
 
 His Eye was living Light , (a mirror true,) 
 
 In which the burning soul poured out its fire 
 In dazzling coruscations, as it threw 
 
 Its spell around him, — rousing strong desire 
 In all who saw to understand its glance 
 
 Of fascination strange, — and yet there shone 
 A look of gentleness, at times t’ entrance 
 The gazer’s soul, and fix it all his own! 
 
142 
 
 The Tiger Flower. — ‘ My pride shall protect me? 
 
 A woman’s Pride, like the .ZEgis of Pallas, affords a powerful 
 defence in the moment of need. 
 
 Farewell ! ah, farewell! I can meet thee no more, 
 Though my heart’s dearest dream from this hour is 
 o’er. 
 
 I have loved thee, have trusted, all fearless and free, 
 My life’s fondest hopes, my soul’s welfare to thee, 
 And believed thy bright spirit an angel of light, 
 
 To guide me by day, and protect me by night; 
 
 But, alas! the illusion so cherished is o’er; 
 
 My pride has been roused, and I ’ll meet thee no 
 more. 
 
 Farewell! ah, forever farewell to the thought, 
 
 Which awoke in my soul as thy loved tones I 
 caught; 
 
 I knew not, I felt not, what danger was nigh, 
 
 As I hung all entranced on the glance of thine eye; 
 
143 
 
 But believed that the bright emanations of mind, 
 Thus bewildering burst from the god thou enshrined, 
 But alas ! the illusion so cherished is o’er; 
 
 My pride has been roused, and I ’ll meet thee no 
 more. 
 
 Farewell! ah, farewell! though my spirit may droop, 
 That its fond dream has fled, and in bitterness stoop 
 To the dust for the fall of the idol it made, 
 
 My pride and its purity naught shall degrade! 
 
 I thought thee all perfect, as pure as the sun, 
 
 And thy truth, and thy brightness, my wild worship 
 won; 
 
 But, alas ! the illusion so cherished is o’er; 
 
 My pride has been roused, and I ’ll meet thee no 
 more. 
 
144 
 
 BOUQUET No. 8. 
 
 BOUQUET FOR AUGUST, COMPOSED OF OATS — PASSION FLOWER - LOVE LIES 
 BLEEDING — CYPRESS VINE — COLUMBINE — VERBENA -AMARANTH — 
 PERIWINKLE-ALTHEA FRUTEX. 
 
 Significations :— Witching Charm of Music — Religious Superstition Disappointment — 
 Hopeless Love — Mourning — Folly of delay — Sensibility — Forever thine — 
 
 Sweet remembrances — Persuasion. 
 
 We read of ‘ the Loves of the Flowers ’ — Why not the Love 
 of the Seasons ? 
 
 THE COURTSHIP OF AUTUMN AND SUMMER. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 ‘ Summer ! Sweet Summer, thy birds and flowers, 
 Have gladdened the earth and sky; 
 
 Thy breezes have sought the invalid’s bowers, 
 
 And cheered the drooping eye! 
 
145 
 
 Thou hast kissed the cheek of beauty bright, 
 And wafted perfumes round her; 
 
 Hast breathed soft music to delight 
 And with fresh flow’rets crowned her! 
 
 To those who love, thou hast kindly given 
 Sweet hours to tell the tale, 
 
 And many a beautiful starlit even, 
 
 Hast heard fond vows prevail; 
 
 But, loveliest! thou hast reigned alone 
 Too long and gently here; 
 
 Stern Winter already has envious grown, 
 And will hither soon repair; 
 
 For, know, he is coming with hoary brow, 
 From the cold and stormy North; 
 
 In his train are Ice, and Frost, and Snow, 
 And Sleetstorms bursting forth ’ — 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 ‘But I have sunbeams to destroy, 
 
 And melt away his snow; 
 
 And w T ill a thousand spells employ 
 My regal power to show; 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 O’er hills and vales my laughing flowers 
 Shall lift their lovely faces; 
 
 My singing birds, and blooming bowers, 
 Shall still retain their places; 
 
 My butterflies and humming bees 
 Shall tease and thwart him ever; 
 
 I’ll crowd fresh leaflets on my trees, 
 
 And let him rest — oh, never!’ 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 4 It will not, Love! it will not do; 
 
 Not e’en thy smiles and blushes, 
 
 A respite from his rage may woo, 
 
 Which like his own wind rushes! 
 
 Then fly with me! oh, fly with me, 
 
 Far from his wrath and rudeness, 
 
 To seek some brighter clime, and be 
 Again all joy and goodness!’ 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 4 And leave the scenes I love so well 1 
 And all I’ve nourished here ? 
 
147 
 
 And break my light and gladsome spell, 
 From things so passing dear? 
 
 From Lover’s lips? and Beauty’s eyes? 
 
 And hearts of frolic childhood? 
 
 The gentle breeze ? The starry skies ? 
 
 Calm sea? and gay, green wildwood? 
 Oh, no! oh, no! it must not be, 
 
 Autumn! I may not go with thee.’ 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 ‘ Nay, dearest, ’t is but for a time 
 Thou ’It leave these cherished things, 
 While Winter, from his northern clime, 
 O’er earth his horrors flings; 
 
 For come he must, and come he will; 
 
 Then, let us haste away; 
 
 Thou shalt return, sweet Summer, still, 
 And still assert thy sway.’ 
 
 SUMMEK. 
 
 1 But must I leave, so fresh and bright, 
 All that has yielded me delight? 
 
148 
 
 The glorious flowers that yet remain, 
 
 To deck the valley, hill, and plain ? 
 
 The ripening Oats, whose sighing tells 
 “ Of Music’s sweetly witching spells ? ” 
 
 The holy Passion Flower , which bloomed 
 First when the Saviour was entombed, 
 
 And would such deep devotion speak, 
 
 As seems like “ Superstition ” weak ? 
 
 The Flovjer of Love that bleeding lies, 
 
 “ Like Hope, ’neath Disappointment’s eyes ?” 
 The sadly “mourning” Cypress Vine? 
 
 And fondly clinging Columbine , 
 
 That gaily still is heard to say, 
 
 Beware “ the folly of delay ? ” 
 
 The bright Verbena, bending low, 
 
 Her “ sensibility ” to show ? 
 
 While Amaranth’s (“ Forever thine,”) 
 
 And Periwinkle’s charms combine, 
 
 Of “ sweet remembrances ” to sing, 
 
 While thought reverts to early spring? 
 
 And, see, the bright Althea opes 
 Her blossoms to assure thy hopes, 
 
149 
 
 For she “ Persuasion’s ” power would prove, 
 And plead, like thee, the claims of Love; 
 Like thine, her gentle tones impart 
 A soft’ning influence to the heart; 
 
 For, even now, though loath to stay, 
 
 Thy voice prevails, and I delay!’ 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 ‘ Then, lovely Summer! do but now 
 Consent to be young Autumn’s bride, 
 
 And he will banish from thy brow, 
 
 Its sadness with delight and pride; 
 
 A little while I ’ll linger yet, 
 
 Old Winter’s triumph to prevent, 
 
 And rob the earth without regret, 
 
 Of all thy beauties — still intent 
 Upon thy happiness, I ’ll spread 
 A charm invisible around, 
 
 O’er every floweret’s drooping head, 
 
 And every spot which thou hast crowned,— 
 That when thou com’st again they’ll be 
 Prepared my blooming bride to see.’ 
 
150 
 
 A moment paused the beauteous maid, 
 Then gently sighing, softly said, 
 
 ‘ I come! ’ — and hid her blushing face 
 In Autumn’s fervent, fond embrace! 
 
151 
 
 Oats. — ‘ The witching Charm of Music' 
 
 The only idea that presents itself upon which to found an hypothe¬ 
 sis rendering Oats symbolical of the effect of music, is found in the 
 mythological fable of King Midas and the reeds. The wind sighing 
 amidst its tall Stems, breathes rich melodies to enchant the ear, 
 and, in broken murmurs, tells the secrets of Nature to the soul. 
 
 I have thought, as I gazed on thee, beautiful maid, 
 That Earth never boasted a being so fair, 
 
 And fancied some seraph from Heaven had strayed, 
 Just to teach us what fair things are dwelling up 
 there. 
 
 And, oh, I have thought, as thy voice I have heard, 
 What music the tones of young seraphs impart, 
 And have listened entranced to each half-murmured 
 word, 
 
 Which like wind over oats, swept the chords of 
 my heart. 
 
152 
 
 Passion-Flower. — ‘ Religious superstition .’ 
 
 There are supernal influences known to every heart; they blend 
 with its holiest affections, and tincture its purest aspirations; and 
 the faith of the ancient Chaldean often mixes with the Christian’s 
 creed, when thinking of the absent and the dear. Hervey tells us, 
 that the Passion Flower first bloomed on Mount Calvary, on the 
 night of the Crucifixion ; hence the superstition of the cross upon its 
 corolla, &c. 
 
 The stars — the beautiful stars are set, 
 
 Like gems in the midnight sky; 
 
 And I fancy that now our thoughts have met, 
 And together ascend on high; 
 
 That we both are watching with earnest gaze, 
 Their noiseless, ceaseless motion, 
 
 With feelings as pure as their own soft rays, 
 And hearts of deep devotion. 
 
153 
 
 Then, as their glorious course I mark, 
 
 And think of the sages old, 
 
 Who deemed from their mysteries, strange and 
 dark, 
 
 Fate’s web they could unfold; 
 
 I blend then faith with the brighter creed, 
 
 That lifts my soul above, 
 
 While at the throne of grace I plead, 
 
 For thee, my absent Love. 
 
 I ask, if those pure orbs of light 
 An influence ever wield, 
 
 That all of beautiful and bright, 
 
 Which hope and fancy yield, 
 
 May with their silvery beams descend, 
 In blessings full and free, 
 
 And through the unknown future blend 
 Their holiest gifts for thee ? 
 
154 
 
 But as the wild dream of their power, 
 Fades before Reason’s ray, 
 
 I raise my thoughts at this silent hour, 
 To their Source supreme , and pray — 
 That He who formed those stars of light, 
 Thy Guardian e’er will be, 
 
 And shed His bounties, pure and bright, 
 Dear, worshipped one! o’er thee. 
 
155 
 
 The Flower of Love lies bleeding. — ‘ Disappoint¬ 
 ment.' 
 
 Ever since the time of O’Conner’s child, this flower has been the 
 emblem selected to express disappointed but faithful affection. 
 
 I said in the pride of my soul, when I felt 
 
 The first disappointment my heart had e’er 
 known, 
 
 That the blow, so unkindly and recklessly dealt, 
 
 Had crushed its emotions, and turned it to stone. 
 Cast ofi; and betrayed, I awoke from the dream 
 Which had bound me in faith and affection so 
 long; 
 
 My spirit was broken, no fight shed its beam, 
 
 To lessen the pang, or to soften the wrong. 
 
156 
 
 Too proud to complain, I enfolded the grief 
 
 In my bosom, and, brooding o’er life’s silent 
 stream, 
 
 I fancied’t would give to my anguish relief, 
 
 Could I turn from the past, to the future’s bright 
 dream. 
 
 From the wrong I had suffered my spirit uprose — 
 A sceptic in love, but a Phosnix in pride. 
 
 Midst the fair tilings of earth, I would solace my 
 woes, 
 
 With love too would sport, and its power 
 deride. 
 
 Oh, rash was the vow, for the rose had its thorn, 
 Concealed in luxuriant foliage from view, 
 
 And the hand which had rifled its sweetness was 
 torn, 
 
 As it dared to intrude where the bright flower 
 grew! 
 
157 
 
 That rose was a Spirit , which often before 
 
 Had appeared to my visions in forms ever new, 
 Like ‘a star’ it had brightened the darkness of 
 yore, 
 
 And like Hope, or like Gladness, its presence I 
 knew. 
 
 Like ‘ a dream ’ it had come in the silence of night, 
 When my heart was care-laden, and sleepless 
 mine eyes, 
 
 And the charm it imparted had soon put to flight 
 Every thought, but the glad ones that e’er with it 
 rise; 
 
 Oh, Dream of my Life! Brightest Rose of my 
 heart! 
 
 More cherished than all of earth’s blessings be¬ 
 side, 
 
 Unchanged be thy graces, may no care impart 
 Its blight to thy beauty — its chill to thy pride ! 
 
158 
 
 Shine on, like a star in the heaven above me, 
 
 And still let me gaze all unchecked on thy beams; 
 On — on be thy course — pause not even to love 
 me, 
 
 But shed thy mild lustre still over my dreams. 
 
 On — on be thy progress through Fame’s brilliant. 
 track, 
 
 Still higher and higher thine object pursue — 
 
 Lift thy thoughts ever upwards, nor turn to look 
 back, 
 
 But rise in thy might to thy purposes true. 
 
159 
 
 Cypress Vine. — ‘ Mourning,' 1 Sad Thoughts!’ 
 
 When disappointment or sorrow has pressed too rudely upon our 
 hopes, the mind, depressed and sad, is apt to give expression to its 
 emotions in mournful language and melancholy strains. 
 
 Pass on, swift Time! and bear along 
 
 My days of youth and my dreams of joy; 
 Pass on! the light that gilds my song, 
 
 Thy flight will darken and destroy; 
 
 Yet pass, relentless power! and bear 
 My spirit from this world of care. 
 
 Pass on! thou takest my hopes away, 
 
 And leavest sorrow’s sting instead; 
 
 Pass on! life’s dearest charms decay 
 Upon thy stream, and soon he dead; 
 
 Yet pass! and bear upon thy tide 
 
 The wreck of power — the boast of pride. 
 
160 
 
 Pass on! thou earliest on thy breast 
 All that has cheered my happy hours; 
 Pass on! thou it bear me too to rest, 
 
 In better realms and fairer bowers; 
 Then pass, in thy triumph swift and gay 
 And bear me from the world away! 
 
161 
 
 Columbine. — ‘ The folly of delay' 
 
 Procrastination has been well defined as the £ thief of Time,’ for 
 that which is delayed from day to day is too frequently neglected 
 altogether. 
 
 o 
 
 Oh ! it is strange how man will dream, 
 Of coming years, — of joy, and fame, 
 That speak of glory’s distant beam, — 
 Encircling with its light his name,— 
 And tell of pleasures yet to be, 
 
 Hid in a dim futurity; — 
 
 Will wile his present hours away, 
 
 In useless indolence and ease, 
 
 Still whispering to himself, ‘A day 
 Of brighter joys and hopes than these 
 Upon my life will yet arise, 
 
 And yield what now stern fate denies; ’ 
 
 11 
 
Tis wonderful, how oft is shown 
 Unfaithful Hope’s futility! 
 
 The warning record still is thrown 
 To darkened eyes that will not see. 
 
 To ears where adder deafness dwells, 
 
 * 
 
 How vain, oh, Time! thy solemn knells! 
 
 ’Tis sad — ’tis fearful — thus to see 
 Age loitering through life’s little span, 
 
 And mark the imbecility 
 
 Of God’s most perfect creature — man ,— 
 In heedless youth his brightest powers 
 Wasting away like summer flowers! 
 
 ’T is worse than sad! for he should know 
 Time’s fleetest pinion e’er is spread, 
 
 And that the pride, the hope, the woe, 
 
 The joy, which have their influence shed 
 Upon his life, and checked its stream, 
 
 Are borne along its course — a dream ! 
 
163 
 
 Ah! he should know, for all things teach 
 The mournful, moral, startling truth; 
 The ruined pile — pale floweret — each 
 Alike proclaims departed youth! 
 
 And man should learn from their decay 
 How his own life-sands drop away! 
 
 Yes! he should take the lesson home, 
 Throughout creation sternly taught, 
 
 Nor let the daily warning come 
 Unhallowed still by act and thought. 
 
 A little while, — how long, alas ! 
 
 He knows not, — and his time will pass. 
 
164 
 
 Verbena — * Sensibility 
 
 » 
 
 Excessive sensibility is as painful to witness, in some of its mani 
 festations, as it is difficult to restrain or conquer. 
 
 The changing cheek, and tearful eye, 
 
 The half breathed word, and frequent sigh; 
 The voice, whose trembling cadence falls, 
 Like music which some dream recalls; 
 
 The startled manner which we find, 
 
 With gentleness full oft combined; 
 Proclaim, amid their dark revealings, 
 
 A heart o’ercharged with tender feelings! 
 
165 
 
 Amaranth. — * Forever thine? 
 
 It would be impossible to feel this sentiment for one on whose 
 reciprocal attachment we could not depend with certainty. 
 
 Let me be first, as thou art first, 
 
 In every thought and wish of mine, 
 And Sorrow’s darkest storms may burst, 
 And Care her poisonous tendrils twine 
 Upon thy head — around thy brow — 
 And Friendship break its holiest vow, 
 And all life’s sufferings combine, 
 
 To bid thy tortured spirit bow; 
 
 But faithful to the ruined shrine, 
 
 My heart will cling — forever thine. 
 
166 
 
 Periwinkle. — ‘ Sweet Remembrances .’ 
 
 Few spells have greater potency in cheering the wearied spirit 
 than the tender recollections of our early home. 
 
 Within her quiet bower 
 A lady sat alone, 
 
 At the gentle twilight hour, 
 
 When memory mounts her throne; 
 And the citron buds then flinging 
 Their odors on the air, 
 
 To her musing thoughts were bringing 
 Her early home, so dear. 
 
 She dreamed of those who dwelt, 
 
 Its treasured scenes among, 
 
 Till all she there had felt, 
 
 To Memory’s harp-strings sprung; 
 
167 
 
 And tones came wildly rushing 
 From the Hyacinth’s drooping bell, 
 Like gentle streamlets gushing, 
 
 Of other days to tell. 
 
 Her mother’s voice was there, 
 
 As it soothed her infant hours, 
 
 And its notes so soft and clear, 
 
 Breathed from her cherished flowers; 
 Her sisters’ virtues blending, 
 
 In many a mystic wreath; 
 
 Their loveliness seemed lending 
 To evening’s perfumed breath. 
 
 Loved forms and precious faces, 
 Which blessed her far off home, 
 In all their pictured graces, 
 
 At Memory’s call had come; 
 
168 
 
 
 And joyous tones were ringing, 
 
 To her heart so long unheard 
 That they seemed the sweet wild singing 
 Of Summer’s first glad bird. 
 
 Althea Frutex. — ‘ Persuasion. 
 
 Earnestness and affection are powerfully persuasive from the lips 
 that are dear to us. 
 
 With orange blossoms in her hair, 
 
 The blushing maiden stood, 
 
 Mid friends beloved and bride’s-maids fair, 
 While he, the pure and good, 
 
 In sacred vestments was arrayed, 
 
 To bind for life that freeborn maid; 
 
And their was one, with noble brow 
 And laughing eye, beside 
 The gentle girl, to hear her vow 
 And claim her as his bride, 
 
 Who proudly on his hand displayed 
 The ring which was to bind the maid. 
 
 It met her eye, and, quick as thought, 
 Life’s chequered scene appears 
 Before her mind; that gem has taught 
 Of future hopes and fears, — 
 
 Emotions not to be portrayed, 
 
 Now fast assailed the trembling maid! 
 
 £ What! give up all ? each act ? each hope ? 
 
 Each impulse, wild and free ? 
 
 The power with life’s stern scenes to cope, 
 Or bear them silently? 
 
 Give up my every thought ? ’ she said, 
 
 And paused in doubt; ah, hapless maid! 
 
170 
 
 But, ah! the youth was practised well 
 In Cupid’s every wile, 
 
 And promptly at her feet he fell, 
 
 And whispered with a smile,— 
 
 ‘ Listen! and be the forfeit paid; 
 
 Oh, listen to my suit, sweet maid ! 5 
 
 4 A seeming bondage thine must be — 
 
 The real is my own; 
 
 Queen of my hopes and destiny! 
 
 I live for thee alone! 
 
 Trust this fond heart — be not afraid — 
 But give me love for love, dear maid!’ 
 
 E’er since ‘the tempter’ crossed Eve’s path, 
 And sweetly on her smiled, 
 
 Has woman, with her easy faith, 
 
 By flattery been beguiled! 
 
 That look, those words of love, betrayed. 
 And won again the trusting maid. 
 
171 
 
 She placed her hand upon his brow, 
 She looked into his eyes, 
 
 She heard his deep impassioned vow, 
 And felt new hopes arise; 
 
 Then hand and heart together laid 
 In willing bondage; — silly maid! 
 
172 
 
 BOUQUET No. 9. 
 
 BOUQUET FOR SEPTEMBER, COMPOSED OF THE SUNFLOWER — ZINNIA - LARK¬ 
 SPUR — COLTSFOOT — SWEET BRIAR-AND BACHELOR’S BUTTON. 
 
 Significations : — Lofty and Pure Thoughts — Absent Friends — Conscious Attachment — 
 Maternal Love — Poetry — I with the morning's love have oft made sport. 
 
 September, with her varied hues, 
 
 Has touched the earth and sky, 
 
 Whose changing charms the pleased eye views, 
 As each floats slowly by; 
 
 For if we scan her lessons right, 
 
 Kind teachings we may find, 
 
 To soothe the heart, and yield a light, 
 
 To guide the darkened mind. 
 

 
> 
 
173 
 
 Each gorgeous cloud, in rich array, 
 Like Hope’s fond dreams is given, 
 To lift from earth our thoughts away, 
 And fix them upon Heaven; 
 
 The drooping bough, and fading leaf, 
 Of Joy’s gay beams might tell, 
 
 As brilliant once, as fickle, brief, 
 
 Her evanescent spell. 
 
 And in the flowers that now remain, 
 To decorate the earth, 
 
 We read how futile, cold, and vain, 
 
 Is beauty, without worth! 
 
 The lordly Sunflower, who has caught 
 Her god’s approving eye, 
 
 Uplifts her graceful head, with ‘thought 
 Forever pure and high.’ 
 
 The Zinnia to the true of heart 
 A precious solace lends, 
 
 And would in accents soft impart 
 A dream of ‘ Absent Friends ! ’ 
 
174 
 
 The Larkspur , with a blush and smile, 
 Her secret whispering low,— 
 
 1 Conscious Attachment/ — may beguile 
 The heart of many a woe. 
 
 The Coltsfoot breathes a tender prayer, 
 
 Her deathless power to prove, 
 
 And gently murmurs in the ear 
 Her spell — ‘ Maternal Love ! ’ 
 
 The Sweet Briar next — dear Eglantine! 
 
 Her glorious gift would bring, 
 
 And ‘ Poesy’s bright offerings ’ twine 
 O’er grief’s corroding sting. 
 
 And here, — defying every rhyme 
 That poet ever thought on,— 
 
 We find at this drear Autumn time, 
 
 The Bachelor’s lone Button ! 
 
 Which tells how ‘ with the morning’s love* 
 Its reckless owner sported, 
 
 Till doomed in later life to prove 
 His heartlessness retorted! 
 
175 
 
 And thus we find the humblest things 
 A lesson may impart, 
 
 May cheer the mind, and touch the strings 
 Of feeling in the heart. 
 
 Then never from a simple flower 
 Turn carelessly aside — 
 
 For know there dwells in each a power, 
 To Wisdom’s self allied. 
 
176 
 
 Sunflower.— * Lofty and Pure Thoughts' 
 
 As the heart which is true to its instincts, still finds happiness in 
 watching over those it loves, and promoting their enjoyments, the 
 Helianthus ever turns to the sun ; this flower is offered, tlirough the 
 symbolical worship of Peru, yearly upon her altars. 
 
 Oh ! could I quit this world, and fly 
 To yonder orient realms of light, 
 
 I’d soar beyond the calm blue sky, 
 
 And dwell where stars, forever bright, 
 Diffuse then glorious lustre round, 
 
 From heaven’s high arch, to earth’s far bound. 
 
 I’d seek some planet for my home, 
 
 Than all the rest more brilliant far, 
 
 Where none but spirits pure might come, 
 
 And reign the queen of that fair star; 
 
 Watch o’er the friends who linger here, 
 
 And dwell their guardian angel there. 
 
177 
 
 Zinnia. — ‘ Absent Friends' 
 
 Every one has felt the absence of friends, and experienced the 
 heart “Sickness that steals upon us at twilight, while memory brings 
 forward the forms and faces of those who are afar. 
 
 Guided by Memory’s magic power, 
 
 Or led by Hope’s delusive star, 
 
 Fond Fancy loves at evening hour 
 With a free wing to range afar; 
 
 To by-gone times and scenes, away 
 She captive bears the willing mind, 
 
 Or paints some happier, future day, 
 
 Leaving realities behind, 
 
 And each wild vision fondly lends 
 To view, the forms of absent friends. 
 
 How doth the wanderer’s bosom swell, 
 
 When such dreams light the lonely scene, 
 Recalling those he loves so well, 
 
 Though mountains—oceans—rise between; 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 When only strangers wake around, 
 
 How sweetly such dear visions come, 
 
 In Fancy’s mystic circlet bound, 
 
 Full of the charms of home! — sweet home ! 
 Thus Hope with Memory ever blends, 
 
 To trace the forms of absent friends. 
 
179 
 
 Larkspur. — ‘ Conscious Attachment ’ 
 
 When true attachment really exists, the presence of the object 
 will be understood without the aid of sight or sound. 
 
 It does not need that I should hear 
 That deep-toned voice in accents sweet, 
 My conscious heart to tell thou’rt near, 
 And bid each pulse with rapture beat; 
 
 It does not need thine eyes should pour 
 Their kindling radiance into mine,— 
 
 To bid my spirit feel — adore — 
 
 An influence words may not define. 
 
180 
 
 Coltsfoot. —‘ Maternal Love .’ 
 
 It is generally supposed that the love of a mother for her child 
 increases, when death, by depriving it of the paternal support, throws 
 it more entirely upon her tenderness and protection. 
 
 My rose-lipped girl! my laughing child, 
 
 Thy brilliant spirits glad my heart; 
 
 And oft sad hours have been beguiled, 
 
 By the sweet thoughts thy smiles impart. 
 They came across my drooping soul, 
 
 As odors from Molucca’s Isles 
 Are wafted o’er the waves that roll 
 Round them, dimpling like thy smiles. 
 
 To cheer my widowed thoughts they shine, 
 With memories of departed days, 
 
 When I have looked on smiles like thine, 
 With youth’s enthusiast, ardent gaze; 
 
181 
 
 Ah, more ! — ah, more ! — Idolatry 
 Was in my heart, as in my eyes, 
 
 And when I look, fair child, on thee, 
 
 To those blest times remembrance flies. 
 
 I think of him, whose smiles as gay 
 First kindled Love’s undying light, 
 
 And still at Memory’s shrine I pay 
 
 The heart’s full tribute, pure and bright; 
 Then come, my laughing, bright-eyed girl, 
 
 And cheer thy mother’s lonely hours; 
 
 Those lips of rose, those teeth of pearl, 
 
 And bright locks, like acacia flowers. — 
 
 Each, all, recall the joyous past, 
 
 When youth, and hope, and love were mine, 
 As one whose lot mid strangers cast, 
 
 Delights in distant lands to twine 
 Visions of Home — forever found 
 
 To soothe his care, to cheer, and bless; 
 
 Thou, with thy father’s graces crowned, 
 
 Still brin gest back lost happiness. 
 
182 
 
 Eglantine, or Sweet Briar. — ‘Poetry? 
 
 It is the province of Poetry to elevate and refine the mind, to 
 soften and purify the heart, and to shed a halo over the rude realities 
 of life. 
 
 The perfume of the leaf, 
 
 The soft tints of the flower, 
 
 Are symbols — one of grief, 
 
 And one of beauty’s power; 
 
 The fragrance which endures, 
 When all of green is gone, 
 Is Sorrow’s gift, which pours 
 Its tribute long and lone. 
 The tender, touching hue, 
 
 That asks a smile from all, 
 Scarce bursts upon the view, 
 Before the flow’rets fall; 
 
183 
 
 These blended emblems seem 
 True types of Poesy, 
 
 For many a changeful theme, 
 
 Clio! belongs to thee. 
 
 The fan, the good, the sad, 
 
 Alike thy lays inspire; 
 
 In glowing numbers clad, 
 
 Each thrills us from thy lyre! 
 
 Oh, blessed boon of heaven, 
 
 Sweet Poesy! impart 
 To me the skill that’s given, 
 
 To touch the generous heart,— 
 Rich melody to pour, 
 
 O’er bosoms that I love, 
 
 Awakening thoughts that soar, 
 
 Earth’s darker scenes above; 
 
 And when, life’s struggles done, 
 My spirit-flight I wing, 
 
 Oh, be this favor won — 
 
 Thy strains in heaven to sing! 
 
184 
 
 Bachelor’s Button. — ‘ I with the morning’s love 
 have oft made sport’ 
 
 There are few pictures more painful to contemplate than that of a 
 solitary old age. Gray hairs should ever be relieved by sunny 
 ringlets, and wrinkles lose half their gloom when contrasted by 
 young faces. Childhood and Age always group well together. 
 
 In the bright days of youth, when emotion was new, 
 And each impulse, though fleeting, was fervent and 
 true, 
 
 I laughed at the dreams which wild Fantasy wove, 
 And scoffed at her visions of beauty and love. 
 
 In the prime of my manhood, I banished with care, 
 All thought of dear wedlock as fraught with a snare, 
 And sought in ambition, or wealth, to ensure, 
 
 The charms which I deemed would forever endure. 
 
185 
 
 And now, in the shadow of life’s thorny way, 
 With feelings all wasted, and health in decay, 
 
 I sigh for the days and the hopes that are gone, 
 And lament o’er my folly, all sad and alone. 
 
 it 
 
186 
 
 BOUQUET No. 10. 
 
 BOUQUET FOE OCTOBEE, COMPOSED OF MOTHEEWOET -IIYDKANGEA - DAHLIA 
 
 CHINA ASTEE. 
 
 Significations : —Concealed Feelings — Contentment — Heartless Beauty — ‘ Woman's 
 
 Heart,' * Trust and Love.' 
 
 Autumnal Blossoms ! drooping, scentless, pale, 
 
 I watch you oft in evening’s silent hour, 
 
 When trembling, shrinking from the chilling gale 
 Which sweeps above the leafless summer bower, 
 Sighing a requiem o’er its beauties dead ; 
 
 Ye seem lamenting, bowing each crushed head, 
 
 As this sad Motherwort , with noble pride, 
 
 4 The heart’s deep feelings from the world would hide. 
 
187 
 
 Yes, thou art welcome, Autumn! all thy changes, 
 From fitful gloom to sunny sky serene, 
 
 Ihy starry vault, o’er which the charmed eye ranges, 
 Or clear, cold moonlight, touching every scene 
 With its peculiar sadness, are sweet things, 
 
 To which my spirit ever fondly clings. 
 
 There is a moral in the withered wreaths 
 And faded garlands that adorn thy bowers, 
 
 Each blighted shrub, chilled flower, or seared leaf, 
 breathes 
 
 Of parted days, and brighter by-gone hours, 
 Contrasting with the present dreary scene, 
 
 Spring’s budding beauties, pleasures which have been , 
 That, like the fair Hydrangea , breathes around 
 The mental fragrance in ‘ Contentment ’ found. 
 
 Oh, Life! thy pageantry is thus portrayed; 
 
 A thousand emblems picture thee to view, 
 
 But never, till Experience has laid 
 
 On the young heart her wand, we deem them true; 
 Then, while yet smarting from the touch, we own 
 The phantoms faithless, from the sight withdrawn! 
 
188 
 
 Friends who have loved us in the pleasant years 
 Of childhood, dead, or parted far away ; 
 
 The seeming kind ones, whose deceiving tears 
 Flowed for a time, then left us for the gay; 
 The cold, the false; — all then to memory start, 
 And deeply trace their records on the heart; 
 
 For, like the Dahlia , ‘heartless beauty’s flower,’ 
 We proved them worthless in the trial hoar! 
 
 And those whom Destiny relentless sways 
 To seek afar stern labor’s bright reward, — 
 
 Are they forgotten, when the mind surveys 
 
 Objects which thrilling touch each sacred chord 
 Of feeling to its source of sad and sweet, 
 
 Where mingling streams of grief and gladness meet ? 
 
 Ah, no! for them shall memory twine her wreath 
 Of fadeless flowers, upon life’s path to bloom, 
 Till true hearts breaking, calmly rest beneath 
 The gloom oblivious of the silent tomb! 
 
189 
 
 Then, and then only, will the cherished dream, 
 Pursued for years, be lost with feeling’s gleam; 
 Then will thy China Aster cease to prove 
 Of ‘woman’s heart’ the type of trust and love! 
 
 Alas! there are not many lights that shed 
 
 Their brightening beams upon our sojourn here! 
 
 Yet some have lived to see the lustre fled, 
 
 From those which promised to burn long and clear, 
 But fainter, and more faint became, till all, 
 
 E’en hope seemed lost beneath affliction’s pall. 
 
 Then may they not, worn bosoms such as these, 
 Find sad memorials in ten thousand things, 
 
 To symbol forth their history ? Leafless trees! 
 
 Ye answer to my call. The bleak wind flings, 
 In Autumn’s eve, a spell upon the heart, 
 
 From whose dark sympathy ’twere grief to part; 
 For Memory’s lights rekindled ’neath its power, 
 Illume and soothe full many a future hour. 
 
190 
 
 Yes! things inanimate may wake a sigh, 
 
 When those in which humanity appears 
 Attract no longer; and the care-dimmed eye, 
 
 May find relief in gazing through its tears, 
 
 On objects which we feel cannot inherit, 
 
 Though doomed to fail, like us — a deathless spirit. 
 
191 
 
 Motherwort. — ‘ Concealed Feelings 
 
 All have some cherished feeling which it would be painful to 
 render public; some tender sorrow which would be profaned by 
 the eye of indifference or curiosity. 
 
 Where the wizard power, to show 
 What may cause the tear to flow ? 
 What may wake the passing sigh, 
 Pale the cheek, and dim the eye ? 
 There are chords in many a breast, 
 
 s' 
 
 Too sacred to be rudely pressed, 
 Which thrill to memory’s touch alone, 
 Telling of happy moments gone. 
 
 A silly jest, a careless word, 
 
 A simple sound, a singing bird, 
 
 A falling lea£ the time of year, — 
 May wake the sigh, or start the tear! 
 
192 
 
 Then, hallowed be the hidden feeling, 
 Where the tear is softly stealing; 
 
 Let no cold observance tell 
 Where the limpid offering fell; 
 
 To all it is not given to know 
 The balm of comfort to bestow. 
 
 Nor all have power to understand, 
 Emotions, swelling o’er command; 
 Mark not the sigh then, deep as low, 
 Mark not the marbled cheek and brow, 
 But let the tear in silence flow, 
 
 O’er still remembered joy or wo; 
 
 A bless’d relief, in mercy given, — 
 
 A holy fount, whose spring is heaven. 
 
193 
 
 Hydrangea. — { Contentment .’ 
 
 To be satisfied with our position in fife, and to conform to the 
 circumstances that encompass us, is surely the wisest policy, and the 
 surest means to attain happiness. The stanzas below were address¬ 
 ed to one who asked the writer if she felt no desire for literary 
 distinction. 
 
 Why wouldst thou touch that string, 
 
 And wake the dream of other days? 
 
 Nay! let oblivion fling 
 
 A veil around, when thought essays 
 Past feelings back to bring. 
 
 I am most happy now! 
 
 My mind, well schooled, at last has learned 
 Each proud conceit to bow 
 
 Down to the quiet it once spurned; 
 
 Then why that calm forego? 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 The cataract of thought, 
 
 Which rushed along my troubled soul, 
 Reason has wisely brought 
 
 At length within her firm control; 
 Experience has been bought. 
 
 Ambition, like a bird, 
 
 Would softly fold her weary wings, 
 And seldom now are heard 
 
 Her notes by me, if still she sings 
 The strain which erst she poured. 
 
 The tranquil, not the sad, 
 
 Has wooed me from the dreams I loved; 
 When in life’s morning glad, 
 
 With all her fairy scenes unproved,— 
 Then dreams of fame I had. 
 
195 
 
 But now my days glide on, 
 Gently, in calm domestic life, 
 Without one laurel won, — 
 
 A simple unaspiring wife; 
 
 Ail dreams of Fame are gone. 
 
196 
 
 Dahlia. — ‘ Heartless Beauty. 
 
 Like a beautiful woman devoid of sensibility, is a flower without 
 fragrance! One of Nature’s anomalies, upon which, though we may 
 look with admiration, we never desire to place it upon the bosom. 
 
 Though Emily’s loveliness rivals the rose, 
 
 And her manners, in grace, every flower that grows, 
 
 Though her form is all perfect and bright is her 
 mind, 
 
 And joy, hope, and youth, on her brow are en¬ 
 shrined ; 
 
 Though words that are gentle and tones that are 
 sweet, 
 
 From her rich ruby lips, our senses still greet; 
 
 I ask not her notice, I shrink from her art, 
 
 For I know, though a beauty, she has not a heart. 
 
197 
 
 China Aster. — ‘ Woman's Heart ,’ ‘Trust and Love' 
 
 Though, woman’s heart is often lightly caught, it is seldom long 
 retained, except by the spells of Virtue and Intelligence. 
 
 First take a feather, and lay it upon 
 The stream that is rippling by; 
 
 With the current, behold! in a moment ’t is gone, 
 Unimpressive and light as a sigh; 
 
 Then take thee a clear and precious stone, 
 
 And on the same stream place it; 
 
 Oh! mark how the water on which it is thrown, 
 In its bosom will quickly encase it! 
 
 Or take a crystal, or stainless glass; 
 
 With a crayon upon it then trace 
 A sentence, or line, and watch how ’t will pass — 
 A oreath will its beauty efface; 
 
198 
 
 Then take a diamond, as pure as ’tis bright, 
 
 And write some modest token; 
 
 Mid heat or cold, in shade, in light, 
 
 ’T will last till the crystal is broken. 
 
 And thus with the tablet of woman’s pure heart, 
 When the vain and the idle may try 
 To leave their impressions, they swiftly depart, 
 Like the feather, the scroll, and the sigh; 
 
 But once be inscribed on that tablet a name, 
 
 And an image of genius and worth, 
 
 Through the changes of life, it will still be the 
 same, 
 
 Till that heart is removed from the earth. 
 
199 
 
 BOUQUET No. 11. 
 
 BOUQUET FOR NOVEMBER, COMPOSED OF CHRYSANTHEMUM-BOX-PLANT- 
 SWEET PEA-VINE-VENUS’ CAR. 
 
 Significations: — 1 Fidelity ’ —Constant unto death — Appointed meeting —Clinging Affection 
 — Fly and I follow thee in my thoughts. 
 
 November has come with her dark chilly days, 
 
 When the sun hides his warmth, and withdraws his bright 
 rays, 
 
 While clouds drifting wildly the heavens about. 
 
 Seem tossed like a soul on the billows of doubt; 
 
 The earth looks so dreary, there’s nought to invite 
 The step that is free, or the heart that is light; 
 
200 
 
 I gaze on the scene with a shudder, and turn 
 
 To the red-glowing hearth, where the bright faggots burn 
 
 But I feel like a prisoner shut from the air, 
 
 And wish — how I wish! that dear summer was here; 
 
 I think of the glad birds, now far, far away, 
 
 Which sung, oh, so sweetly! each quick-passing day; 
 
 I think of the bees, and the butterflies, gone, 
 
 And feel my heart sink, for I’m sad and alone; 
 
 The sweet charm of sympathy, where shall I find, 
 
 To soothe my dark spirit, and brighten my mind? 
 
 My flowers are fading; the few that are left 
 Look sad as myself, of their friends all bereft; 
 
 But I ’ll bind up their beauties, and trim them with care 
 Perhaps they may serve as a bouquet to w T ear; 
 
 Here’s the White Chrysanthemum , Fidelity’s flower, 
 Defies in its beauty the frost’s blighting power; 
 
 While the Box-plant , so green, murmurs low as a breath 
 From the lips of the dying, ‘ still constant in death; ’ 
 
 And a Sweet Pea , I wonder ’t is blooming to-day, 
 
 But it asks for ‘ a meeting,’ and I must obey; 
 
 And here this fair Vine, which seems clinging for life, 
 Just like the dependence expressed by a wife, 
 
201 
 
 Whose visions unbroken, whose trust unbetrayed, 
 
 ‘Still clings to the conquest her young beauty made;’ 
 While this pretty blossom, which Cupid has brought 
 From the courts of his mother, reveals a sweet thought, — 
 It is Venus’s Car, and says, ‘ Fly where you will, 
 
 In heart and in fancy I’ll follow you still;’ 
 
 But, alas! there is nothing more left, and I turn 
 Again to the hearth, where the bright faggots burn; 
 
 Oh! dark is November, and sad are the hours, 
 
 Uncheered by soft breezes, bright birds, and fresh flowers. 
 
202 
 
 The White Chrysanthemum. — ‘ Fidelity .’ 
 
 Addressed to a Chrysanthemum which remained blooming in a 
 bed of ice, long after the cold had shattered the vase which had 
 enclosed it. 
 
 Fair gift of Friendship! and her ever bright 
 And faultless image! beautiful thou art, 
 
 In thy pure loveliness, thy robes of white, 
 Speaking a moral to the feeling heart; 
 Unscathed by heats, by wintry blasts unmoved, 
 Thy strength thus tested, and thy charms improved. 
 
 Emblem of Innocence! which, fearless, braves 
 Life’s drearest scenes, its rudest storm derides, 
 And floats as calmly on o’er troubled waves, 
 
 As where the peaceful streamlet smoothly glides,— 
 Tliou'rt blooming now, as graceful and as fair 
 As other blossoms do when spring is here. 
 
203 
 
 Symbol of Hope! still banishing the gloom 
 
 Hung o’er the mind by stem November’s reign, 
 Thou cheer’st the fancy by thy steady bloom, 
 With thoughts of Summer, and the fertile plain; 
 Calling a thousand visions into play, 
 
 With beauty teeming, bright as sunny May. 
 
 Type of a true and holy love, the same 
 
 Through every scene that crowds life’s varied 
 page, 
 
 ’Mid grief, ’mid gladness, spell of every dream, 
 Tender in youth, and strong in feeble age, 
 
 The peerless picture of a faithful wife, 
 
 Thou bloom’st the fairest ’midst the frosts of life! 
 
204 
 
 Box-plant. — ‘ Constant unto death. 
 
 1 Previous to the departure of Baron de Stael from Sweden, he 
 was enamored of his second cousin, a beautiful young girl, whom he 
 had promised to marry; but after the offers received by him from 
 the Necker family, he wrote to inform her of the peculiar circum¬ 
 stances in which he was placed, and that his union with a lady whom 
 he did not love, would be the means of raising his family from 
 poverty and obscurity. His cousin, without any other answer, re¬ 
 turned his marriage promise, stained with her tears , and in seven 
 weeks she was a corpse. 
 
 THE SWEDISH GIRL. 
 
 ‘ Even to pause on such a thought! 
 
 How could it cross his mind! 
 
 Power thus trafficked for, and bought, 
 
 With happiness resigned! 
 
 And love like mine cast coldly by 
 At vain Ambition’s call! 
 
205 
 
 My heart, be calm! why should I sigh r i 
 Tears — tears — Avhy will ye fall? 
 
 The Swedish girl should scorn to stand 
 Between him and his chosen land! 
 
 Ay, take thy bride, — the gifted one,— 
 And glory in her fame! 
 
 And when, pervading like the sun, 
 
 Her genius lights thy name, 
 
 Forget amidst its dazzling rays, 
 
 How dim thine own appears, 
 
 Nor think upon the heartfelt praise, 
 
 Was thine in former years, 
 
 When mingling love, and hope, and pride, 
 With her now coldly thrown aside. 
 
 Ay, wed another — wed the great! 
 
 Gain wealth, but with it care! 
 
 Soon shalt thou feel its galling weight, 
 And mourn each glittering snare 
 
206 
 
 That wiled thee from thy plighted vow, 
 From first and unfeigned love, 
 
 And hade thee to a stranger bow, — 
 
 A stranger’s bounty prove! 
 
 Madness! that one so loved by me , 
 Should ever thus degraded be! 
 
 For him what could I not have borne! 
 
 What wo! what poverty ! 
 
 And rich in love, have smiled with scorn, 
 When heartless wealth rolled by. 
 
 I would have urged him up the steep 
 Where hangs the noblest crown 
 Honor may gain or Virtue keep,— 
 
 An honest man’s renown; 
 
 Soothed him when yielding to his toils, 
 And brightened each success with smiles! 
 
207 
 
 Yet why thus linger o’er a dream, 
 That my fond spirit bound, 
 
 But left my soul no cheering beam, 
 To light the darkness round; 
 
 Well, be it so! — I may not speak 
 What stirs within my heart; 
 
 The fettered spirit soon will break, 
 Through all things, and depart; 
 Yet ’t would be sweet again to bless 
 The object of past tenderness! 
 
 It may not be! I cannot ask 
 Earth’s happiness for one 
 Who hath imposed the bitterest task 
 That woman’s pride has done. 
 
 I ’ll curse not, though I may not bless 
 The idol of my youth, 
 
But in my wreck of happiness 
 Still prove unfaltering truth; 
 
 And, blotted thus with tears, return 
 The pledge I would, but cannot spurn.’ 
 
 And such is woman’s love! not even pride, 
 
 That oft quells passion in its fiercest tide, 
 
 This high-souled, injured, Swedish girl could save, 
 For Spring wove garlands o’er her early grave. 
 
209 
 
 Sweet Pea. — 1 Appointed meeting ,' ‘ Improve the 
 
 present .’ 
 
 As it is impossible to recall the past, or forsee the future with 
 any degree of certainty, we should improve the present, which alone 
 is ours. 
 
 Hark ! the gentle sighing 
 Of the midnight breeze, 
 
 Like music softly dying 
 Amid the citron trees, 
 
 Whose fragrant blossoms falling, 
 
 Like snow-flakes strew the ground, 
 While fairy voices calling, 
 
 Seem mingled with the sound. 
 
 The moon, her soft beams lending, 
 Sheds beauty over all, 
 
 In harmony thus blending, 
 
 Beneath her silvery pall, 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 The tribute earth is sending, 
 
 So varied, sweet, and rare, 
 
 To greet the pure eyes bending 
 From yonder starry sphere. 
 
 Then, wherefore are we wasting 
 The moments that remain, 
 When day with fleet step hasting. 
 Will part us soon again? 
 
 While Nature, homage paying, 
 
 To the great Source of love, 
 Reprovingly seems saying, 
 
 ‘ The present hour improve.’ 
 
211 
 
 The Madeira Vine. — ‘ Clinging Affection .’ 
 
 This most tender and beautiful of vines lives through the coldest 
 season, if sheltered, and sustained with kindness. I find no better 
 illustration for its peculiar sensitiveness, than — 
 
 THE WIFE. 
 
 1 She flung her white arms round him — Thou art all that this poor heart can 
 cling to.’ 
 
 I could have stemmed misfortune’s tide, 
 And borne the rich one’s sneer, 
 
 Have braved the haughty glance of pride, 
 Nor shed a single tear; 
 
 I could have smiled on every blow, 
 
 From Life’s full quiver thrown, 
 
 While I might gaze on thee, and know 
 I should not be alone f 
 
212 
 
 I could, I think, I could have brooked, 
 E’en for a time, that thou 
 Upon my fading face had’st looked, 
 
 With less of love than now; 
 
 For then I should at least have felt 
 The sweet hope still my own, 
 
 To win thee back, and whilst thou dwelt 
 On earth, not been alone! 
 
 But thus, to see from day to day, 
 
 Thy brightening eye and cheek, 
 
 And watch thy life-sands waste away, 
 Unnumbered, slowly, meek; 
 
 To meet thy look of tenderness, 
 
 And catch the feeble tone 
 Of kindness, ever breathed to bless, 
 
 And feel, I ’ll be alone ! 
 
 To mark thy strength each hour decay, 
 And yet thy hopes grow stronger, 
 
 As filled with heavenward trust, they say, 
 £ Earth may not claim thee longer; ’ 
 
213 
 
 Nay, dearest! ’t is too much, — this heart 
 Must break, when thou art gone; 
 
 It must not be — we may not part — 
 
 I could not live alone! 
 
 Venus’s Car. — ‘ Fly ! and I'll follow thee.' 
 
 Affection still follows the object of its regard, through every 
 changing scene, that reality or imagination can present. 
 
 THE TRUE BALLAD OF THE WANDERER. 
 
 A maiden in a Southern bower, 
 
 Of fragrant vines, and citron trees, 
 
 To charm the pensive twilight hour, 
 
 Flung wild her thoughts upon the breeze; 
 
214 
 
 To Cupid’s ear unconscious, telling, 
 
 The fitful dream her bosom swelling, 
 
 Till echo softly on it dwelling, 
 
 Revealed the urchin, bold and free, 
 
 Repeating thus her minstrelsy: 
 
 ‘ Away ! away ! — by brook and fountain, 
 Where the wild deer wanders free, 
 
 O’er sloping dale, and swelling mountain, 
 Still my fancy follows thee; 
 
 Where the lake its bosom spreading, 
 Where the breeze its sweets is shedding, 
 Where thy buoyant steps are treading, 
 There — where’er the spot may be, 
 
 There my thoughts are following thee! 
 
 In the forest’s dark recesses, 
 
 Where the fawn may fearless stray! 
 
 In the cave no sunbeam blesses, 
 
 With its first or parting ray; 
 
215 
 
 Where the birds are blithely singing, 
 Where the flowers are gaily springing, 
 Where the bee its course is winging, 
 There, if there thou now may’st be, 
 
 Anxious thought is following thee! 
 
 In the lowly peasant’s cot, 
 
 Quiet refuge of content; 
 
 In the sheltered, grass-grown spot, 
 
 Resting, when with travel spent, 
 
 Where the vine its tendrils curling, 
 Where the trees their boughs are furling, 
 Where the streamlet clear is purling, 
 There, if there thou now may’st be, 
 
 There my spirit follows thee! 
 
 In the city’s busy mart, 
 
 Mingling with its restless crowd; 
 
 ’Mid the miracles of art, 
 
 Classic pile, and column proud; 
 
216 
 
 O’er the ancient rain, sighing, 
 When the sun’s last ray is dying, 
 Or to fashion’s vortex flying, 
 
 Even there, if thou may’st be, 
 
 There my thoughts must follow thee! 
 
 In the revel — in the dance — 
 
 With the firm familiar friend — 
 
 Or, where Thespian arts entrance, 
 Making mirth and sadness blend; 
 Where the living pageant glowing, 
 O’er thy heart its spell is throwing, 
 Mimic life in 1 alto ’ showing, 
 
 There, beloved, if thou may’st be, 
 
 There, still there, I follow thee! 
 
 When the weary day is over, 
 
 And thine eyes in slumber close, 
 
 Still, oh! still, inconstant rover, 
 
 Do I charm thee to repose; 
 
217 
 
 With the shades of night descending, 
 With thy guardian spirits blending, 
 
 To thy sleep sweet visions lending, 
 
 There, e’en there, true love may be, 
 
 There, and thus am I with thee! ’ 
 
 Months and seasons rolled away, 
 
 And the maiden’s cheek was pale; 
 
 When, as bloomed the buds of May, 
 
 Cupid thus resumed the tale; 
 
 ‘ Over land and sea returning, 
 
 Wealth, and power, and beauty spurning, 
 Love within his true heart burning, 
 Comes the wanderer mid and free, 
 
 Faithful maiden! back to thee ! ’ 
 
0 
 
 218 
 
 BOUQUET No. 12. 
 
 BOUQUET FOE DECEMBER, COMPOSED OF YEW - HOLLY -COLOKED CHRYSAN¬ 
 THEMUM—DEAD LEAVES-AND IVY. 
 
 Significations : — Sorrow deeply rooted — Power of Imagination — Unceasing Love — Sadness 
 
 — and Friendship. 
 
 W hen moments winged by happiness pass on, 
 
 And hours of pleasure or of pain have gone; 
 
 When days and weeks their rapid circuit run, 
 
 And months had closed o’er toils they had begun,— 
 We mark their progress with a careless sigh, 
 x\nd simply own the fact — that Time will fly! 
 

 ; *V; a 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
219 
 
 But when the varying seasons glide away, 
 
 When Spring and Summer have withdrawn their sway, 
 And Autumn’s gales, and Winter’s storms depart, 
 
 The startling lesson touches every heart; 
 
 The fearful truth strikes home, — a year has fled, — 
 
 We pause, — look back, — and mark its course with dread ! — 
 
 Its vast events we gather at a glance, 
 
 And wake in wonder from the spirit’s trance; 
 Another bolt from Time’s bent bow is hurled, 
 Another warning to the slumbering world. 
 
 Appaled we scan the fleeting scenes of life, — 
 The past, — the future, — all is care and strife! — 
 
 Now thought springs up, and urges back the mind, 
 To pleasure’s transient moments, left behind ; 
 
 We weigh their worth against the general wo, 
 
 And own Earth’s pageant but a fitful show; 
 
 With chastened hearts we raise to Heaven our eyes, 
 And the soul’s anchor cast beyond the skies. 
 
220 
 
 Then gaze within, and ask the wearied heart, 
 How through the year it acted out its part? 
 How much of goodness it to earth has given ? 
 How much of beauty offered up to heaven ? 
 What bright examples it has nobly wrought? 
 And what high lessons to the worldling taught ? 
 
 We turn to Fancy, from whose magic power, 
 We oft find solace in some darkened hour, 
 
 And ask what she , pervading as the sun, 
 
 To cheer the lonely and the sad has done ? 
 
 And, lo! e’en now, at this drear time she stands, 
 Her brightest treasures ever in her hands. 
 
 From the dark Yew Tree , which of ‘ sorrow’ tells, 
 She steals the venom of its poisoned spells, 
 
 By placing it amid the Holly leaves, 
 
 And scarlet berries, which her votary weaves, 
 
 In garlands offered to the parting year, 
 
 With sighs embalmed and sanctified by prayer. 
 
221 
 
 The gay Chrysanthemum she fondly brings, 
 
 Of ‘ Love unceasing ’ lo the year that sings; 
 
 She strews Dead Leaves in ‘Sadness’ on the shrine 
 That ‘ Friendship ’ covers with her Ivy Vine; 
 
 And thus, through life, with ready skill conceals, 
 The keenest anguish that the proud heart feels. 
 
 Dear though the theme, ah! wherefore longer cast 
 Our saddened vision back upon the past? 
 
 As o’er the relics of some cherished friend, 
 
 In mournful musing, pensively we bend, 
 Departing years no lighter tones inspire, 
 
 Than such, Melpomene, as wake thy lyre! 
 
 But other thoughts with budding youth appear, 
 
 And other feelings greet the opening year; 
 
 Then gay Thalia comes with joyous strain, 
 
 And faith, and peace, and gladness wake again; 
 Doubt flies the scene, as Hope’s bright form appears, 
 With iris hues to paint our future years. 
 
222 
 
 We turn exulting to those coming days, 
 
 When promised joys will kindle sweeter lays, 
 Nerve the worn spirit for the world’s rude strife, 
 And start refreshened on the path of life, 
 
 Again to labor, speculate, and plan, 
 
 And find how futile are the dreams of man. 
 
9 
 
 223 
 
 Yew Tree. — £ Sorrow deeply rooted .’ 
 
 When sorrow has once become deeply seated in the mind, it is 
 often difficult, if not impossible, to remove its traces; every thought 
 and every expression will be tinctured by its sombre shades. 
 
 Hast ne’er beheld the rays of morning 
 
 Shine o’er some wild flower fresh and fair, 
 Their light, a- golden veil, adorning, 
 
 Its petals dancing in the ah, 
 
 Yet ere the evening shades descended, 
 
 Some blast too rude that flower had torn, 
 Leaving its parent stem unfriended, 
 
 Desolate, ruined, and forlorn? 
 
 If thou hast, to thee I need not tell 
 
 Of a heart where hopes were glowing bright, 
 And fairy visions were wont to dwell 
 
 Till it met with Sorrow's withering blight. 
 
224 
 
 % 
 
 For, alas! that stem in its loneliness, 
 
 And the flowers around it widely strown, 
 Were but the symbols, as thou may’st guess, 
 Of a heart, and its ruined hopes — my own! 
 
 Holly. — ‘ Power of Imagination .’ 
 
 It is a custom in the country residences of the South, to decorate 
 the dining rooms at Christmas, with Holly boughs ; the green leaves 
 and scarlet berries of which present a striking and cheerful appear¬ 
 ance. 
 
 There is an hour when memory brings 
 The treasured joys of bygone years, 
 The musing mind to soothe, and flings 
 A veil o’er all its present cares; 
 
225 
 
 A time when Hope her meteor blaze 
 Rekindles for our future hours, 
 
 And Fancy cheats the raptured gaze, 
 
 Life’s pathway wreathing with her flowers 
 
 An hour when fairy forms appear, 
 
 To circle round us lovingly, 
 
 And tones long mute, though ever dear, 
 Float murmuring on each zephyr by. 
 
 Yes, there are times when every flower, 
 
 And every living creature teems 
 With holy spells; when wakes a power, 
 
 To realize our wildest dreams. 
 
 Imagination’s happy art, 
 
 Exerted o’er each thought and feeling, 
 Then sways the mind, and snares the heart, 
 By all of life’s stern truths concealing. 
 
 15 
 
226 
 
 Colored Chrysanthemum. — ‘ Unceasing Love ’ 
 
 1 Cease not to think of me.’ 
 
 I could not hush that constant theme, 
 
 Of hope and reverie ; 
 
 For every day and nightly dream, 
 
 Whose lights across my dark brain gleam, 
 Is filled with thee! 
 
 I could not bid those visions spring 
 Less frequently; 
 
 For each wild phantom which they bring, 
 Moving along on Fancy’s wing, 
 
 But pictures thee! 
 
227 
 
 I could not stem the vital source 
 Of thought, or be 
 
 Compelled to check its whelming force, 
 As ever in its onward course 
 It tells of thee ! 
 
 I could not, dearest! thus control 
 My destiny, 
 
 Which bids each new sensation roll, 
 Pure from its fountain in my soul, 
 
 To life and thee. 
 
228 
 
 Dead Leaves. — ‘ Sadness 
 
 There is always something touching in a withered leaf; it tells 
 of past verdure and beauty, and seems to whisper to the heart, of 
 young life and bright hopes, which the frosts of sorrow have blighted 
 and extinguished. 
 
 Ye withered leaves! ye withered leaves! 
 
 To mark your premature decay, 
 
 With sympathy my bosom heaves, 
 
 For like its hopes ye passed away! 
 Like you they brightened in the gleam, 
 Of Summer’s sweetly genial ray, 
 
 But brilliant, transient as a dream, 
 
 The Autumn found them in decay. 
 
229 
 
 Ivy. — c Friendship .’ 
 
 Every one can talk of friendship, yet few seem to understand its 
 obligations alike. Young and Byron have both attempted to describe 
 this sentiment, yet who will affirm that either of them felt it ? 
 
 There are a thousand nameless ties, 
 
 Which only such as feel them know; 
 
 Of kindred thoughts, deep sympathies, 
 
 And untold fancy spells, which throw 
 O’er ardent minds and faithful hearts, 
 
 A chain, whose charmed links so blend, 
 That the light circlet but imparts 
 
 Its force, in these fond words, — my friend! 
 
 It is a mystic wreath, which twines 
 Around two souls its tendrils bright, 
 
 Whose sacred, softest touch refines 
 And purifies; it is a fight, 
 
230 
 
 Which brightest shines on Life’s dull stream, 
 And cheers our roughest voyage here, 
 
 Adds lustre to Hope’s gilded dream, 
 
 And yields a solace to despair. 
 
 It is a compact, pure, high, holy, 
 
 Felt , not expressed, yet deeply binding; 
 
 It charms the great, consoles the lowly, 
 
 And ’midst our saddest thoughts oft winding, 
 Its gentle influences will dispel, 
 
 Dark shadows from the brow of Care, 
 
 And conjure up from Memory’s cell, 
 
 Fair images which linger there. 
 
 It is the covenant of souls, — 
 
 A heaven-inspired bond of feeling, 
 Which neither time nor place controls, 
 While even absence , all else stealing, 
 
281 
 
 Leaves within minds of loftier mould, 
 
 That radiant flame, enduring ever; 
 
 Passion and Fancy, Hope grow cold, 
 
 But heaven-born Friendship —- never! never 
 
232 
 
 Love’s Game, or The Bouquet. 
 
 How often may a silly game 
 Betray a purpose deep, 
 
 And Love which scarcely owned the name, 
 Be by it roused from sleep! 
 
 They met in Fancy’s favorite bower, 
 
 With hearts as free as air, 
 
 Yet Cupid chose that very hour, 
 
 To wing his arrows there. 
 
 A cherished bouquet, torn apart, 
 The herald he selected, 
 
 To fling a spell on either heart, 
 And thus the plan effected. 
 
233 
 
 The Mountain Laurel was displayed, 
 As his most leading trait; 
 
 * Accept the Hawthorn said the maid, 
 ‘ And hope thou ’It yet be great.’ 
 
 ‘ Nay, nay! ’ he cried, ‘ Ambition springs 
 To something more than fame; 
 
 This Tulip , gentle lady, sings 
 The boon I dare not name 
 She read his meaning in the eyes 
 Turned fondly to her own, 
 
 And took the flower, while sweet surprise, 
 Upon her flushed cheek shone. 
 
 The fair Camellia next he gave; 
 
 ‘ My destiny I place 
 Within thy hands; ah, lady, save 
 My hopes from dark disgrace! ’ 
 
234 
 
 She spake not to his pleading look, 
 But turned her blushing cheek, 
 
 As from the scattered sprigs she. took 
 The Balm , these words to speak — 
 
 ‘ If truth be thine — if manly faith 
 Within thy bosom glows, 
 
 This simple herb a meaning hath, 
 
 And sympathy bestows;’ 
 
 He seized the herb; the hand so fair 
 He pressed within his own, 
 
 Then placed the tell-tale Cowslip there, 
 To breathe in Love’s low tone; 
 
 ‘ One more, hut one, before we close 
 This game to me so dear; 
 
 A hyacinth, a pink, a rose, — 
 
 One more } my lady fair!’ 
 
235 
 
 She gazed a moment half afraid 
 The sentiments to see; 
 
 ‘ This Arbor Vitce ,’ said the maid, 
 
 ‘ Means “ You must live for me.” ’ 
 
 The tale was told, — the game was o’er, — 
 Love’s secret all was known; 
 
 They met as they ne’er met before, 
 
 For each a prize had drawn ; 
 
 They met, — and soon a bridal wreath 
 Adorned the lady’s brow, 
 
 While love glowed on the cheek beneath, 
 And laughs upon it now. 
 
 Ar\ 
 
236 
 
 Power of Association. 
 
 Lines addressed to a lady in return for some wild flowers, from 
 the tomb of Abelard and Heloise, in Pere le Chaise. 
 
 What were thy feelings, lady! what the thought, 
 That swayed thy spirit as thou stood’st beside, 
 
 The famed mausoleum, where the world is taugb* 
 That bitter lesson to all human pride, — 
 
 That naught, however prized, or great, can save, 
 Though Immortality enshrine its grave ? 
 
 Oh ! did thy fancy, as mine would have done, 
 
 Call back to life again those mouldering forms, — 
 Giving to Heloise each grace that won, 
 
 Passion surviving all the spirit’s storms, 
 
237 
 
 Till every age, and every land hath given, 
 
 Pilgrims to Pere le Chaise , Love’s flower-wreathed 
 path to heaven ? 
 
 Didst thou recall those dark, impassioned eyes, 
 Where dazzling intellect with feeling strove ? 
 That lofty brow, and lip which scorned disguise, 
 Smiling in rapture o’er the spells it wove ? 
 
 And didst thou, then, while musing o’er her doom, 
 Shed one fond tear, upon her time-worn tomb ? 
 
 Ah, well I know thy gentle soul o’erflowed, 
 
 With keenest sympathy her woes above ; 
 
 For genuine Virtue never yet hath glowed, 
 
 Where no response was found to genuine love ! 
 Such love, alas! as ne’er in woman’s breast, 
 
 Meets aught but sadness, and a sweet unrest 
 
238 
 
 For e’en to Heloise what did it bring? 
 
 Worship most true from him her soul adored, 
 The outward triumph, and the secret sting, 
 
 As low to heaven her spirit-grief she poured, 
 Lamenting that his image still would start, 
 Between the throne of mercy and her heart. 
 
 And he , the genius-gifted, the refined, 
 
 Whose soul-inspiring eloquence could move 
 The coldest critic, warm the sternest mind, — 
 Oh! was he happy in this deep, strong love ? 
 Alas! alas! the records that remain 
 Whisper of Passion, and a proud name’s stain. 
 
 But what their sufferings were, or what their 
 crime, 
 
 Is asked by none who linger at their tomb; 
 
239 
 
 f Their loves, their names, are yet embalmed by Time, 
 While o’er their grave the fragrant wild flowers 
 bloom: 
 
 Sad, sacred emblems, from a hallowed shrine! 
 
 Ye wake strange fancies in a heart like mine. 
 
240 
 
 % 
 
 The Parting Wreath. — To Henrietta. 
 
 Thou art going, and I feel 
 A sadness o’er me steal, 
 
 My proud heart would conceal, 
 
 Amid its treasured blessings, deep, sacred and un¬ 
 told, — 
 
 But, gentle friend, and best, 
 
 I cannot bear the test; 
 
 It will not be represt; 
 
 So the cherished grief to thee I cannot but unfold. 
 
 It rarely hath been mine, 
 
 The mystic wreath to twine, 
 
 On Love or Friendship’s shrine. 
 
241 
 
 Nor see the garland droop, and wither soon away; 
 With me the fault may dwell, 
 
 But vanisheth the spell, 
 
 E’en while a secret well 
 
 Is springing in my heart, whose gush I cannot 
 stay; 
 
 And its waters overflow, 
 
 Extinguishing the glow, 
 
 Leaving me hut woe, 
 
 For the trust so full and free, my ardent spirit 
 gave; 
 
 And, unlike Dodona’s stream, 
 
 It yields, alas! no beam, 
 
 Rekindling the sweet dream, 
 
 But darkly, stilly rolls, o’er ruined Feeling’s grave. 
 
 For, when the flower-linked chain 
 Is rudely snapped in twain, 
 
 For me — ah, ne’er again, 
 
 16 
 
242 
 
 Its tendrils twine together, its stems united bloom! 
 But, dearest, ’t is not thus 
 The wreath has proved to us, 
 
 And its sweets I would discuss 
 E’er chance, or change, or care, hath wrought the 
 dreaded doom. 
 
 Time, ever on the wing, 
 
 Hath summoned the fourth spring, 
 
 Its verdure round to fling, 
 
 Since in our hearts began those charmed buds to 
 grow; 
 
 And in the scenes of mirth, 
 
 Which witnessed first their birth, 
 
 I’ve tried their dazzling worth, 
 
 And deemed the glittering blossoms had gem-like 
 roots below. 
 
 In scenes of tranquil pleasure, 
 
 I’ve tried the weight to measure, 
 
 Of my talismanic treasure, 
 
243 
 
 But in the balance wanting it never has been 
 found; 
 
 And when Sorrow’s lamp had shed, 
 
 Its cold ray o’er my head, 
 
 And Life’s best hopes seemed fled, 
 
 Its blossoms still were blowing, with their richest 
 perfume crowned. 
 
 And now these priceless flowers, 
 
 Nursed in some fairy’s bowers, 
 
 To form this -wreath of ours, 
 
 Will soon the blighting trial of absence undergo; 
 Is it strange that I should mourn, 
 
 When its stems apart are torn, 
 
 And some afar are borne, 
 
 To fill the air with fragrance, where other breezes 
 blow ? 
 
 But I feel thou ’It not forget 
 The scenes in which we’ve met, 
 
 And I say with less regret, 
 
244 
 
 Farewell! may angels guard thee on thy w illin g 
 way; 
 
 To me, — oh, many a spell 
 In memory’s haunts will dwell, 
 
 Thine imaged grace to tell, 
 
 From morning’s rosy dawn, to evening’s twilight 
 gray! 
 
245 
 
 INDEX 
 
 TO 
 
 THE FLORAL YEAR, 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 Tf 1L¥E 
 
 ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE TWELVE MONTHS. 
 
 • BOUQUET EOR JANUARY. 
 
 FLOWER. SENTIMENT. 
 
 Dew-plant,. A Serenade ,. IS 
 
 Acacia,. Platonic Love ,. 18 
 
 Stock-Gilly Elower,. Always the same ,. 19 
 
 Evergreen Thom,. Solace in Sorrow ,. 20 
 
246 
 
 FOR FEBRUARY. 
 
 FLOWER. 
 
 Camellia Japonica, 
 
 Arborvitse,. 
 
 Lauristinus,. 
 
 American Cowslip, 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 My destiny is in your hands, .28 
 
 Live for me, . 29 
 
 I die if neglected, . 31 
 
 You are my Divinity, .32 
 
 FOR MARCH. 
 
 Snowdrop, • • -. 
 
 
 
 Mignonette,. 
 
 
 • • 38 
 
 Dogwood,. 
 
 
 .. 39 
 
 White Jonquil,. 
 
 
 .. 41 
 
 
 
 
 i uiip JircCj ana jjiowd^* • * * * * 
 
 
 
 Forget me not,. 
 
 
 
 FOR APRIL. 
 
 Daffodil,. 
 
 
 
 Wax Myrtle,. 
 
 
 
 Daisy,. 
 
 
 
 Laurel,. 
 
 
 .55 
 
 Crimson Rose,. 
 
 
 
 Rose Geranium,. 
 
 
 
FOR MAY. 
 
 FLOWER. 
 
 Snowball,. 
 
 Lily of the Vale, 
 
 Myrtle, . 
 
 Roses in variety,- 
 
 Hawthorn,. 
 
 Violet,. 
 
 White Rose Bud, 
 
 Hyacinth,. 
 
 Anemonie,. 
 
 Iris,. 
 
 Butter Cup,. 
 
 American Elm, - • 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 • I look to things above , 
 
 ■ Restored Happiness , • • 
 
 • Love ,. 
 
 • Pledge of Affection, • • 
 
 •Hope ,. 
 
 ■ Modesty ,. 
 
 Maiden's Blush ,. 
 
 ' Grief . 
 
 Forsaken ,. 
 
 Unrequited Affection, 
 Forgiveness ,. 
 
 ■ Patriotism, . 
 
 Honeysuckle,. 
 
 Fuchsia,. 
 
 Auricula,.. 
 
 Evening Primrose, - • • 
 
 Wall-flower,. 
 
 Pink,. 
 
 Heartsease, or Pansy, 
 
 Nasturtium,. 
 
 Ice-plant,. 
 
 Yellow Rose,. 
 
 FOR JUNE. 
 
 . Wedded Love, . 
 
 . Confiding Love, .. 
 
 . Painting, . 
 
 . Inconstancy, . 
 
 . Fidelity, . 
 
 . Lively and pure affection, 
 
 . Oh, think of me, . 
 
 . Passing away, . 
 
 . Estrangement, . 
 
 . Smile again, . 
 
248 
 
 FLOWER. SENTIMENT. 
 
 White J essamine,... Qo not me pain, . H2 
 
 Bay Blossom,. Reward of merit, . H6 
 
 The Water Star-Flower, 
 
 Oleander,. 
 
 Myosotis, . 
 
 Trumpet Flower,. 
 
 Trefoil, or Clover,. 
 
 Balm,. 
 
 Yellow Lily,. 
 
 Heliotrope,. 
 
 Yellow Carnation,. 
 
 Coreopsis,. 
 
 Walnut Leaf,. 
 
 Tiger Flower,. 
 
 FOR JULY. 
 
 . Trust , Love in death, 
 
 . Warning, . 
 
 . Forget me not, .. 
 
 . Separation ,.. 
 
 . Trust in Providence, • 
 
 . Sympathy, .. 
 
 . Coquetry, . 
 
 . Promised Happiness, • 
 
 . Disdain, . 
 
 . Love at first sight, • • • 
 
 . Power of Intellect, • • • 
 
 . My pride protects me ,• 
 
 121 
 
 123 
 
 *125 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 133 
 
 134 
 136 
 
 139 
 
 140 
 
 141 
 
 142 
 
 FOR AUGUST. 
 
 O ats >.*. Witching sped of music, . 151 
 
 Passion Flower,. Religious Superstition, . 152 
 
 Flower of love lies bleeding,. Disappointment, Hopeless Love, . 155 
 
 Cypress Vine,. Mourning, . 159 
 
 Columbine,. Folly of delay, . 161 
 
 Verbena,. Sensibility, . 164 
 
249 
 
 FLOWER. SENTIMENT. 
 
 Amaran th,. Forever thine, . 
 
 Periwinkle,.. • Sweet Remembrances, 
 
 Althea Frutex,. Persuasion, . 
 
 165 
 
 166 
 16S 
 
 FOR SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Sunflower,. 
 
 Zinnia,. 
 
 Larkspur,. 
 
 Coltsfoot,. 
 
 Sweet Briar, or Eglantine, 
 
 Bachelor’s Button.. 
 
 Lofty and pure thoughts, . 176 
 
 ■Absent Friends, . 177 
 
 Conscious Attachment, . 179 
 
 Maternal Love, . 180 
 
 Poetry, . 182 
 
 I with the morning's love have oft. 
 made sport, . 184 
 
 FOR OCTOBER. 
 
 Motherwort,. Concealed Feelings, . 191 
 
 Hydrangea,. Contentment ,. 193 
 
 Dahlia,. Heartless Beauty, . 196 
 
 China Aster,. Woman's Heart, Trust and Love, - • • • 197 
 
 FOR NOVEMBER. 
 
 White Chrysanthemum,. Fidelity, . 
 
 Box-plant,. Constant unto Death, . 
 
 Sweet Pea,... Meeting, Improve the present, 
 
 Madeira Vine,. Clinging Affection, Wife, - - • 
 
 Venus’s Car,. Fly! and I'll follow thee, - • • 
 
 202 
 
 204 
 
 209 
 
 211 
 
 213 
 
250 
 
 FOR DECEMBER. 
 
 FLOWER. 
 
 Yew Tree,. 
 
 Holly,. 
 
 Colored Chrysanthemum, 
 
 Dead Leaves,. 
 
 Ivy,. 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 Sorrow deeply rooted, .223 
 
 Imagination, . 224 
 
 Unceasing love, . 226 
 
 ■Sadness, . 228 
 
 Friendship, ... 229 
 
251 
 
 INDEX 
 
 OF THE 
 
 
 /k M © 
 
 A 
 
 MONTH. NAME. SENTIMENT. 
 
 January, • • • - Acacia,. Platonic Love ,. 18 
 
 May, .American Elm,. Patriotism , . 88 
 
 Eebruary, • - American Cowslip,. You are my divinity, . 32 
 
 August, .Amaranth,.. • • .. Forever thine, . 165 
 
 May, .Anemonie,. Forsaken, . 80 
 
 Ferruary, • • Arborvitse,. Live for me, . 29 
 
MONTH. 
 
 NAME. 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 June, .Auricula,. Painting, . 100 
 
 August, .Althea Frutex,. Persuasion, . 168 
 
 B 
 
 June, .Bay Blossom, 
 
 July, .Balm,. 
 
 September,- -Bachelor’s Button, 
 
 November, • -Box-plant, ....... 
 
 May, .Butter Cup,. 
 
 Reward of merit, . 116 
 
 Sympathy, . 133 
 
 2 with the morning's love have 
 l oft made sport, . 184 
 
 • • Constant unto death, . 204 
 
 • • Forgiveness ,. sg 
 
 February, •• Camellia Japonica,. My destiny is in your hands,' 28 
 
 July, .Carnation, Yellow,. Disdain, . 139 
 
 October, -China Aster,. Woman's Heart, . 197 
 
 November, • • Chrysanthemum, white, - • • 
 December, • • Chrysanthemum, colored, 
 
 July, .Coreopsis,. 
 
 August, .Columbine,. 
 
 September, - • Coltsfoot,.. 
 
 August, .Cypress Vine,. 
 
 April, .Crimson Hose,.. 
 
 •Fidelity, . 
 
 • Unceasing Love, • 
 •Liove at first sight, 
 •Folly of delay, • • 
 
 202 
 
 226 
 
 140 
 
 161 
 
 • Maternal Love, . 180 
 
 • Mourning, . 159 
 
 •Love and Beauty, . 58 
 
 D 
 
 April,. Daisy, . Innocence, . 
 
 October • • - Dahlia,. Heartless Beauty, 
 
 53 
 
 196 
 
253 
 
 MONTH. NAME. 
 
 April,. Daffodil, •••• 
 
 January,- Dew-plant, • • 
 
 March,. Dogwood, • • 
 
 December, • • Dead Leaves, 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 ■Deception ,. 49 
 
 Serenade, . 16 
 
 Lave undiminished by absence, 39 
 Sadness, . 228 
 
 E 
 
 January, • • • • Evergreen Thom, • 
 June, .Evening Primrose, 
 
 Solace in Soirow, . 20 
 
 Inconstancy, . 101 
 
 P 
 
 August, .Elower of love lies bleeding, - • • •Disappointment,Hopeless Love, 155 
 
 March, .Forget me not,. My name is a spell, . 44 
 
 June, .Fuchsia, . Confiding Love, . 98 
 
 April, 
 
 Geranium, Rose, 
 
 Cr 
 
 Preference, 
 
 61 
 
 H 
 
 December, • - Holly,. Imagination, . 
 
 May, .Hawthorn,. Hope, . 
 
 June, .Honeysuckle,... Wedded Love, . 
 
 October, • • • • Hydrangea, . Contentment, . 
 
 July, .Heliotrope,. Promised Happiness, 
 
 May, .Hyacinth,. Grief, . 
 
 June, .Heartsease, or Pansy,.- • Think of me, . 
 
 224 
 
 73 
 
 95 
 
 193 
 
 136 
 
 78 
 
 105 
 
MONTH. 
 
 NAME. 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 June, .Ice-plant,. Estrangement, . 109 
 
 Mat, .Iris,. . . Unrequited Affection ,. 81 
 
 December, •-Ivy,. Friendship, . 229 
 
 T 
 
 March, .Jonquil, White,. Religious Devotion, . 41 
 
 June, .Jessamine, White,. Do not give me pain, • • . 113 
 
 I. 
 
 September, - -Larkspur, • • 
 February, • -Lauristinus, 
 
 April, .Laurel, ••••••• 
 
 Mir,.Lily of the vale, 
 
 - Conscious Attachment, . 179 
 
 I die if neglected, . 31 
 
 Ambition, Love of Fame, ■••• 55 
 
 ■ Restored Happiness, . 68 
 
 1VE 
 
 November, • - Madeira Vine, 
 
 July, .Myosotis, • • • • 
 
 May, .Myrtle,.. 
 
 March, .Mignonette, - • • 
 
 October, • • • • Motherwort, • • • 
 
 Clinging Affection, Wife, • • • 211 
 
 • -Forget me not, . 125 
 
 "Love, . 70 
 
 ^ Your qualities smpass your 
 
 \ charms, . 38 
 
 ■ • Concealed Feelings, . 191 
 
MONTH. 
 
 NAME. 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 June, .Nasturtium, 
 
 July, .Oleander, 
 
 August, .Oats, • • • • 
 
 • .. Passing away, .. • 
 
 o 
 
 . Warning , . 
 
 . Witching charm of music, 
 
 107 
 
 123 
 
 151 
 
 P 
 
 August, .Passion Plower, 
 
 June, .Pink,. 
 
 August, .Periwinkle, ••• 
 
 Religious Superstition, . 152 
 
 Lively and pure Affection , • • • • 103 
 Sweet Remembrances, . 166 
 
 R 
 
 May, ■ 
 
 • Roses in variety, • 
 
 •Pledge of Affection, 
 
 s 
 
 May, .Snowball,. 
 
 March, .Snowdrop,. 
 
 September, • • Sweet Briar,. 
 
 November, • - Sweet Pea,. 
 
 January, -Stock-Gilly Plower, 
 
 September, - - Sun Flower,. 
 
 Lofty and pure Thoughts, • • • • 67 
 
 Simplicity, . 38 
 
 Poetry, . 182 
 
 Meeting, Improve the present,- • 209 
 
 Always the same, . 19 
 
 I look to things above, . 176 
 
 T 
 
 142 
 
 July, 
 
 July, 
 
 Tiger Plower, 
 Trefoil,. 
 
 My pride protects me, 
 Trust in Providence, • 
 
 129 
 
256 
 
 MONTH. 
 
 July, 
 March, • • 
 
 NAME. 
 
 Trumpet Flower,. 
 
 Tulip Tree, and Flower, • • • • 
 
 SENTIMENT. 
 
 Separation , . 
 
 Declaration of Love, Rural 
 Happiness ,. 
 
 127 
 
 42 
 
 ■w 
 
 November, •-Venus’s Car,. Fly! and 1'll follow thee, ••• 213 
 
 May, .Violet,. Modesty, . 75 
 
 August, .V erbena,. Sensibility, . 16-4 
 
 w 
 
 June, .Wall Flower,. Fidelity in misfortune, . 102 
 
 April, .Wax Myrtle,. I'll give you advice, . 51 
 
 July, .Water Star,. Trust, Love in death, . 121 
 
 May, .White Rosebud,. Maiden's Blush, . 76 
 
 July, .Walnut Leaf,. Power of Intdled, . 141 
 
 Y 
 
 December, • - Yew Tree, 
 
 June, .Yellow Rose, 
 
 July, .Lily, Yellow, 
 
 Sorrow deeply rooted ,.223 
 
 Smile again, . 110 
 
 Coquetry ,. 184 
 
 z 
 
 September, - - Zinnia, 
 
 Absent Friends, 
 
 177 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
■J