The language of flowers The floral offering ; a token of affection and esteem ; comprising the language and poetry of flowers
Who has a feeling spirit,--such a friend
Heals with a searching balsam.
_Percival._
* * * * *
Delightful is an evening’s cheerful chat
With pleasant friends, especially to one
Who has been long away. The minutes run
With speed that all the talkers marvel at.
So much to talk about--so much to tell--
So many sleeping memories to awaken--
The various fates that absent friends befell--
Whom time has spared, and whom the grave has taken;
The tear to shed for those who’ve passed away--
The sigh to breathe for those who’ve gone astray--
Our times of darkness, and our days of light--
Our purposes and plans for coming years--
Our heavenly hopes, our earthly human fears--
And lo! ’tis time to say, “Good-night, dear friends, good-night!”
_MacKellar._
TUBEROSE.... _Dangerous Love_.
The superb Tuberose is a native of the East Indies and South America,
and was introduced into Europe in 1632. It has since spread all over the
world. The flower is of a white colour, sometimes tinged with a blush of
pink. Its perfume is delicious and powerful; but if you would enjoy it
without danger, keep at some distance from the plant. If you come with
the object of your affection to inhale its perfume by moonlight, when
the nightingale is pouring forth its ravishing melody, these odours will
add an inexpressible charm to your enjoyment; but, if, regardless of the
precepts of moderation, you approach too near, this divine flower will
then be but an enchantress who will pour a dangerous poison into your
bosom. Thus the love which comes from above purifies and exalts; but
that which springs from earth debases and proves the bane of imprudent
youth.
* * * * *
Yes, Love is but a dangerous guest
For hearts as young as thine,
Where youth’s unshadowed joys should rest,
Life’s spring-time fancies shine.
Then, sweetest, leave the wildering dream,
Till Time has nerved thy heart
To brook the fitful cloud and gleam,
Which must in love have part.
_Mrs. Osgood._
* * * * *
The Tuberose, with her silvery light,
That in the gardens of Malay
Is called the mistress of the night,
So like a bride, scented and bright,
She comes out when the sun’s away.
_Moore._
* * * * *
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pleasures might my passions move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
So fading flowers in every field,
To winter floods their treasures yield;
A honeyed tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
_Sir Walter Raleigh._
* * * * *
Instability and change are written
On us and all our works. The loveliest things,
When full of promise, oftentimes are smitten;
And sweetest roses foster hidden stings.
The world, if loved too well, doth ever pall,
And the poor fool who set his heart thereon
Is doomed to see his hope in ruins fall,
Its frail foundation undermined and gone.
_MacKellar._
DAHLIA.... _Elegance and Dignity_.
The Dahlia is a native of South America, but is now extensively
cultivated in Europe and North America. The shrub grows to a
considerable height, and the flowers are large and beautiful. The most
common colours are crimson and purple. No more appropriate emblem of
elegance and dignity of carriage could have been selected. These
qualities strike us at the first view of the Dahlia.
* * * * *
I loved thee for thy high-born grace,
Thy deep and lustrous eye--
For the sweet meaning of thy brow,
And for thy bearing high.
I loved thee for thy stainless truth,
Thy thirst for higher things,
For all that to our common lot
A better temper brings.
And are they not all thine--still thine?
Is not thy heart as true?
Holds not thy step its noble grace?
Thy cheek its dainty hue?
And have I not an ear to hear?
And a cloudless eye to see--
And a thirst for beautiful human thought,
That first was stirred by thee?
_Willis._
* * * * *
Why, a stranger--when he sees her,
In the street even smileth stilly,
Just as you would at a lily.
_Miss Barrett._
* * * * *
Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth
And swimming majesty of step and tread,
The symmetry of form and feature, set
The soul afloat, even like delicious airs
Of flute and harp.
_Milman._
* * * * *
Her glossy hair was clustered o’er a brow
Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth;
Her eyebrow’s shape was like the aërial bow,
Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,
Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow,
As if her veins ran lightning.
_Byron._
* * * * *
Do but look on her eyes! they do light
All that love’s world compriseth;
Do but look on her hair! it is bright
As love’s star, when it riseth!
Do but mark,--her forehead’s smoother
Than words that soothe her!
And from her arched brows such a grace
Sheds itself through the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life,
All the gain, all the good, of the element’s strife.
_Jonson._
CAMELLIA JAPONICA.... _Modest Merit_.
The Camellia Japonica is a native of China and Japan. It is a large,
evergreen tree. The flowers are large, of the form of a rose of
variegated hues--the red prevailing--and without fragrance. It is made
the emblem of modest worth, because, as Roscoe observes, “it boasts no
fragrance, and conceals no thorn.”
* * * * *
Let other bards of angels sing,
Bright suns without a spot;
But thou art no such perfect thing,
Rejoice that thou art not.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
Whose veil is unremoved;
Till heart with heart in concord beats,
And the lover is beloved.
_Wordsworth._
* * * * *
Oh, that estates, degrees, and offices,
Were not derived corruptly! and that dear honour
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare?
How many be commanded, that command?
How much low peasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seed of honour? and how much honour
Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new varnished?
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
There’s a proud modesty in merit!
Averse from asking, and resolved to pay
Ten times the gift it asks.
_Dryden._
* * * * *
Oh, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it,
To lock it in the wards of covert bosom;
When it deserves with characters of brass
A forted residence ’gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of oblivion.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Thine is a mind of maiden artlessness!
Unstained, undarkened, by the dross of earth;
A soul, that through thine eyes, bright beams express
Thy nature, e’en as noble as thy birth;
Whose every glance reflects the gem enshrined,
Worthy a form so fair; the diamond of the mind.
_Anon._
* * * * *
His resting-place is noted by a stone
Of whitest marble: truthful words are those
Inscribed thereon. The scene of his repose
Befits his life: ’twas beautiful and calm.
In meekness and in love he went his way,
Uprightly walking--filling up the day
With useful deeds. He often poured the balm
Of healing into wounded breasts; nor sought
The praise of men in doing good.
_MacKellar._
THORN-APPLE.... _Deceitful Charms_.
The flowers of the Thorn-Apple droop while the sun shines beneath their
dull-looking foliage, but on the approach of night, they revive, display
their charms, and unfold their prodigious bells, which nature has
coloured with purple, lined with ivory; and to which she has given an
odour that attracts and intoxicates, but is so dangerous as to stupify
those who inhale it even in the open air. It is a dangerous plant to be
allowed to grow where children go, as the beauty of its flowers and
fruit is liable to tempt them to their destruction; since it possesses
so poisonous a quality as to produce paralysis, and even madness, in
those who have eaten it. Its leaves have been recommended for coughs and
asthma. The charms of the Thorn-Apple flower are beautiful, but deadly;
like those of the corrupt and treacherous, to be found in every society.
* * * * *
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow-falls in the river,
A moment white--then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow’s lovely form
Envanishing amid the storm.
_Burns._
* * * * *
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Get thee glass eyes;
And like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Women of kind have conditions three:
The first is,--they be full of deceit,
To spinne also is their property,
And women have a wonderful conceit,
For they can weep oft, and all is a sleight,
And ever when they list, a tear is in the eye,
Beware, therefore,--the blind eateth many a fly.
_Chaucer._
* * * * *
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
_Shakspeare._
* * * * *
Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
_Shakspeare._
LADY’S SLIPPER.... _Capricious Beauty_.
The Lady’s Slipper is well known in Europe and America. The plant is
small, but produces a considerable number of flowers, of variegated
hues. This flower is made the emblem of capricious beauty, because she
seems,
----With her changeful hues,
As she were doubtful which array to choose.
* * * * *
I saw thee in the gay saloon
Of Fashion’s glittering mart,
Where Mammon buys what Love deplores,
Where Nature yields to Art;
And thou wert so unlike the herd
My kindling heart despised,
I could not choose but yield that heart,
Though Love were sacrificed.
The smile which hung upon thy lips,
In transport with their tone,
The music of thy thoughts, which breathed
A magic theirs alone!
The looks which spake a soul so pure,
So innocent and gay,
Have passed, like other golden hopes
Of happiness, away.
_Dawes._
* * * * *
Her eyes
Are blue and beautiful, and flash out gleams