The language of flowers The floral offering ; a token of affection and esteem ; comprising the language and poetry of flowers
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Spare not the babe,
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Do not insult calamity;
It is a barbarous grossness to lay on
The weight of scorn, where heavy misery
Too much already weighs men’s fortunes down.
_Daniel._
* * * * *
Oh, he’s accurst from all that’s good,
Who never knew Love’s healing power;
Such sinner on his sins must brood,
And wait alone his hour.
If stranger to earth’s beauty--human love,
There is no rest below, nor hope above.
_Dana._
COLUMBINE.... _Desertion_.
Bring Lilies for a maiden’s grave,
Roses to deck the bride,
Tulips for all who love through life
In brave attire to ride:
Bring each for each, in bower and hall,
But cull the Columbine for all.
“The Columbine? full many a flower
Hath hues more clear and bright,
Although she doth in purple go,
In crimson, pink, and white.
Why, when so many fairer shine,
Why choose the homely Columbine?”
Examine well each floweret’s form,--
Read ye not something more
Than curl of petal--depth of tint?
Saw ye ne’er aught before
That claims a fancied semblance there.
Amid those modelled leaves so fair?
Know ye the cap which Folly wears
In ancient masques and plays?
Does not the Columbine recall
That toy of olden days?
And is not folly reigning now
O’er many a wisdom-written brow?
’Tis Folly’s flower, that homely one;
That universal guest
Makes every garden but a type
Of every human breast;
For though ye tend both mind and bower,
There’s still a nook for Folly’s flower.
Then gather roses for the bride,
Twine them in her bright hair,
But, ere the wreath be done--oh! let
The Columbine be there.
For rest ye sure that follies dwell
In many a heart that loveth well.
Gather ye laurels for the brow
Of every prince of song!
For all, to whom philosophy
And wisdom do belong.
But ne’er forget to intertwine
A flower or two of Columbine.
Forget it not;--for even they,
The oracles of earth,
Mid all their wealth of golden thoughts,
Their wisdom and their worth,
Sometimes play pranks beneath the sky,
Would scarce become e’en such as I!
Weave ye an armful of that plant,
Choosing the darkest flowers,
With that red, blood-dipped wreath ye bring
The devastating powers
Of warrior, conqueror, or chief;
Oh! twine that full of Folly’s leaf!
And do ye ask me why this flower
Is fit for every brow?
Tell me but one where Folly ne’er
Hath dwelt, nor dwelleth now,
And I will then the laurel twine,
Unmingled with the Columbine.
_Louisa A. Twamley._
PASSION FLOWER.... _Faith_.
In the Passion Flower, we find a representation of the crown of thorns,
the scourge, the cross, the sponge, the nails, and the five wounds of
Christ. Hence its name and signification.
* * * * *
One more plant----
Which, consecrate to Salem’s peaceful King,
Though fair as any gracing beauty’s bower,
Is linked to sorrow like a holy thing,
And takes its name from suffering’s fiercest hour.
Be this my noblest theme--Imperial Passion Flower!
Whatever impulse first conferred that name,
Or Fancy’s dream, or Superstition’s art,
I freely own its spirit-touching claim,
With thoughts and feelings it may well impart.
_Barton._
* * * * *
Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death,
To break the shock blind nature cannot shun,
And lands thought smoothly on the further shore.
_Young._
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True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form.
The bended knee, the eye uplift is all
Which man need render; all which God can bear.
What to the faith are forms? A passing speck,
A crow upon the sky.
_Bailey._
* * * * *
Faith is the subtle chain
That binds us to the Infinite: the voice
Of a deep life within, that will remain
Until we crowd it thence.
_Mrs. E. Oakes Smith._
* * * * *
Naught shall prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
_Wordsworth._
* * * * *
Ah, no! my dying lips shall close,
Unaltered love, as faith professing;
Nor (praising Him who life bestows)
Forget who makes that life a blessing.
My last address to Heaven is due;--
My last but one I give to you.
_Lovibond._
PINK.... _Pure Love_.
The primitive Pink is simple red or white, and scented; but cultivation
has varied the colour from the darkest purple to the purest white. Under
all its diversities, however, it retains its delicious, spicy fragrance,
and hence has been made the emblem of woman’s love, which no
circumstance can change. Florists designate two principal divisions of
these flowers, Pinks and Carnation. The former are marked by a spot
resembling an eye, and by a more humble growth. The flower of the
Carnation is much larger than that of the Pink, and of a deeper hue. The
Carnation was called by some of the old English writers the clove-gilly
flower, from its perfume resembling that of cloves.
* * * * *
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought;
And with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat (like Patience on a monument)
Smiling at grief.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
It is a fearful thing,
To love as I love thee; to feel the world--
The bright, the beautiful, joy giving world--
A blank without thee. Never more to me
Can hope, joy, fear, wear different seeming. Now
I have no hope that does not dream for thee;
I have no joy that is not shared by thee;
I have no fear that does not dread for thee.
_L. E. L._
* * * * *
Alas! the love of woman! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing;
For all of theirs upon that die is thrown,
And, if ’tis lost, life has no more to bring
To them but mockeries of the past alone.
_Byron._
SENSITIVE PLANT.... _Chastity_.
This singular plant is so named from its motions imitating the
sensibility of animal life. It contracts itself in the evening and
expands with the morning light, and shrinks from external violence,
folding up its leaves at the mere approach of one’s hand. The Violet is
the emblem of that retiring modesty which proceeds from reflection, but
the Sensitive Plant is a perfect image of innocence and virgin modesty,
the result of instinct.
* * * * *
So dear to heaven is saintly chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.
_Milton._
* * * * *
Oh! she is colder than the mountain’s snow.
To such a subtile purity she’s wrought,
She’s prayed and fasted to a walking thought:
She’s an enchanted feast, most fair to sight,
And starves the appetite she does invite;
Flies from the touch of sense, and if you dare
To name but love she vanishes to air.
_Crown._
* * * * *
In thy fair brow there’s such a legend writ
Of chastity, as blinds the adulterous eye:
Not the mountain ice,
Congealed to crystals, is so frosty chaste
As thy victorious soul, which conquers man,
And man’s proud tyrant-passion.
_Dryden._
* * * * *
Like the Mimosa shrinking from
The blight of some familiar finger--
Like flowers which but in secret bloom,
Where aye the sheltered shadows linger,
And which beneath the hot noon-ray
Would fold their leaves and fade away--
The flowers of Love in secret cherished,
In loneliness and silence nourished,
Shrink backward from the searching eye,
Until the stem whereon they flourished,
Their shrine, the human heart, has perished,
Although themselves may never die.
_J. G. Whittier._
THYME.... _Activity_.
Among the ancient Greeks, Thyme denoted the graceful elegance of the
Attic style; because it covered Mount Hymettus, and gave an aromatic
flavour to the honey made there. Those writers who had mastered the
Attic style were said “to smell of Thyme.” Flies of all shapes, beetles
of all hues, bright butterflies, and vigilant bees for ever surround the
flower tufts of Thyme, and they thus seem to teem with life. Activity is
a warlike virtue, and is ever associated with true courage. On this
notion, the ladies of the days of chivalry embroidered on the scarfs
which they presented to their knights the figure of a bee hovering about
a sprig of Thyme.
* * * * *
I am not old,--though years have cast
Their shadows on my way;
I am not old,--though youth has passed,
On rapid wings away.
For in my heart a fountain flows,
And round it pleasant thoughts repose;
And sympathies, and feelings high,
Spring like stars on evening’s sky.
_Park Benjamin._
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The thrifty Thyme a home can find,
Where smiles the sun, and breathes the wind.
_Mrs. Hale._
* * * * *
Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or edge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
The keen spirit
Seizes the prompt occasion,--makes the thought
Start into instant action, and at once
Plans and performs, resolves and executes.
_Hannah More._
* * * * *
Come, I have learned, that fearful commenting
Is laden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove’s Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: my counsel is my shield:
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Rouse thee! wake thy soul from sadness;
Fail not in the eager strife!
See around the bright earth’s gladness,--
All activity and life!
_Peerbold._
HOLLYHOCK.... _Ambition_.
We have few flowers that contribute more to the ornamenting of large
gardens than the Hollyhock, which, from its towering height and seeming
love of display, is the emblem of ambition. The flowers are of all hues,
from a blackish-purple to a faint white, and, though very beautiful, are