The language of flowers The floral offering ; a token of affection and esteem ; comprising the language and poetry of flowers
In books and love the mind one end pursues,
And only change the expiring flame renews.
_Gay._
* * * * *
Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks,
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable,
But all to please and sate a curious taste?
_Milton._
AMERICAN STARWORT.... _Welcome_.
The Starwort is another late-blooming flower. It is exclusively
indigenous to North America and the Cape of Good Hope. The flowers are
of every variety of hue, and present a very attractive appearance.
* * * * *
Stranger, new flowers in our vales are seen,
With a dazzling eye, and a lovely green.--
They scent the breath of the dewy morn:
They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn,
But revel and grow in our balmy air;
They are flowers which Freedom hath planted there.
This bud of welcome to thee we give,--
Bid its unborn sweets in thy bosom live;
It shall charm thee from all a stranger’s pain,
Reserve, suspicion, and dark disdain:
A race in its freshness and bloom are we;
Bring no cares from a worn-out world with thee.
_Mrs. Sigourney._
JUNIPER.... _Protection_.
The Juniper has been the favourite of Superstition. The ancients
consecrated the shrub to the Furies. The smoke of its green roots was
the incense which they offered in preference to the infernal gods; and
they burned its berries during funerals to ban malign influences. In
some parts of Europe, the peasant still believes that the perfume of
Juniper berries purifies the air, and drives evil spirits from his
humble cot. The Juniper is made to signify protection, on account of the
defensive qualities ascribed to it by superstition, and the shelter its
drooping branches afford to small animals which are hard pressed by the
hunters.
* * * * *
I have found out a gift for my fair;
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed;
But let me that plunder forbear,
She will say, ’twas a barbarous deed.
“For he ne’er could be true,” she averred,
“Who could rob a poor bird of its young;”
And I loved her the more, when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
_Shenstone._
HAZEL.... _Peace--Reconciliation_.
Fable gives the following account of the origin of the signification of
the Hazel. There was a time when men were at constant war with each
other, and could not be restrained from cruelty and revenge by any tie
of kin. The gods at length took pity on them. Apollo and Mercury made
presents to each other, and descended to the earth. The god of harmony
received from the son of Maia the shell of a tortoise, out of which he
had constructed a lyre, and gave him in exchange a Hazel stick, which
had the power of imparting a love of virtue and of reconciling hearts
divided by envy and hate. By the power thus given him, Mercury taught
men the love of peace, and of home and country, and made commerce the
bond of nations. Adorned with two light wings, and entwined with
serpents, the Hazel rod given to the god of eloquence by the god of
harmony is still, by the name of caduceus, the emblem of peace,
commerce, and reconciliation.
* * * * *
Oh then that wisdom may we know,
Which leads a life of peace below!
_Sprague._
* * * * *
Peace, sweet peace is ever found
In her eternal home on holy ground.
_Mrs. Embury._
* * * * *
And see,
As yet unclothed, the Hazel tree
Prepares his early tufts to lend
The coppice first-fruits; and depend
In russet drops, whose clustered rows,
Still closed in part, in part disclose,
Yet fenced beneath their scaly shed,
The pendent anther’s yellow head.
_Louisa A. Twamley._
* * * * *
I trust the frown thy features wear,
Ere long into a smile will turn;
I would not that a face as fair
As thine, beloved, should look so stern.
The chain of ice that winter binds,
Holds not for aye the sparkling rill;
It melts away when summer shines,
And leaves the waters sparkling still:
Thus let thy cheek resume the smile
That shed such sunny light before;
And though I left thee for a while,
I’ll vow to leave thee, love, no more.
_Wm. Leggett._
* * * * *
Come, while the morning of thy life is glowing,
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die--
Ere the gay spell, which earth is round thee throwing,
Fades like the crimson from a sunset sky.
Life is but shadows, save a promise given,
Which lights up sorrow with a fadeless ray.
Oh, touch the sceptre!--with a hope in heaven,
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away.
_Anon._
OAK.... _Nobility_.
The form of the Oak tree, when grown fairly and naturally, is a perfect
emblem of its qualities, so firm set, so massive, and strong. You may
always know it instantly, whether as a wintry skeleton form, bare, and
gnarled, and angular, or in its summer garb of rich and finely massed
foliage, always the monarch of the woods.
* * * * *
True is, that whilome that good poet said,
The gentle mind by gentle deeds is known,
For man by nothing is so well bewrayed
As by his manners, in which plain is shown
Of what degree and what race he is grown.
_Spenser._
* * * * *
How vain are all hereditary honours,
Those poor possessions from another’s deeds,
Unless our own just virtues form our title,
And give a sanction to our fond assumption!
_Shirley._
* * * * *
Whoe’er amidst the sons
Of reason, valour, liberty, and virtue,
Displays distinguished merit, is a noble
Of nature’s own creating. Such have risen,
Sprung from the dust; or where had been our honours?
_Thomson._
* * * * *
LIFE OF AN OAK TREE.
Long centuries have come and passed
Since, in a stormy wind,
An acorn fell one autumn day,
Like thousands of his kind.
The wild swine fed in the forests then,
And hungry beasts were they;
They crunched the mast where’er it fell,
And they feasted well that day.
But as they trampled all about
With heavy hoofs, they trod
That acorn--perchance hundreds more--
Deep in the yielding sod.
Years came and went.--The acorn grew
And became a young Oak tree;
With a slender, straight, and flexile stem,
Dressed in rich greenery.
Time passeth on.--The young tree rose
A bold and noble thing;
Each summer showed a leafier crest,
And a longer shoot each spring.
There came into the ancient wood
Some stern official men;
They marked the fairest, loftiest trees,
And they were doomèd then.
They glanced upon the tall young Oak,
And quickly passed it by,
And laughing harshly, said ’twould do
By the next century.
Soon through the forest’s solemn glades
There rang that deathful sound,
The woodman’s axe;--and crashing fell
Trunks, branches, all around.
Craftsmen of many kinds there came
For that oak timber good,
And carried it in loads away
From its old native wood.
Some floated far o’er ocean’s waves
Mid stormy winds and squalls,
Both merchant-ships, and men-of-war,
“Old England’s Wooden Walls.”
Some, raised on high, with rare device
The royal roof support,
And look down in the banquet-hall
On king, and queen, and court.
Some, quaintly carved, and polished fair,
May shrine a pictured face,
Of Dolci’s gentle loveliness,
Or Raphael’s angel grace.
And many a toilet mirror owes,
Its flowered and gilded frame
To the good trees of which I sing:--
Well have they won their fame!
And massive tables, that have once
Groaned ’neath baronial fare,
If they could talk of that Oak wood,
Might tell of dwelling there.--
The young Oak tree yet statelier grew,
And broader spread its shade,
And the dappled deer lay sheltered ’neath
The canopy it made.
Years came and went.--The Oak tree stood
In full-grown prime and pride,
And lords of various mind and mood
Possessed those woodlands wide.
The first, a reckless forester,
Loved horse, and hawk, and hound,
And he chased all o’er his wide domains,
Wellnigh the whole year round.
His lady fair, as dames were wont,
In those long bygone days,
Loved hawking too; and gallant trains
She led through forest ways.
’Twas a merry and a winsome thing,
When lord, and squire, and knight
Rode forth, mid bugles ringing shrill,
With dainty ladies bright,
To sweep along by vale and hill,
Or through the forest glade,
Where the echoes of their laughter light
A merry music made.
And oft they reined their palfreys in
Beneath the young Oak tree,
And oft foretold how grand a thing
In after-time ’twould be.
These jocund sports passed all away;
For direful civil war
Spread its fell curse throughout the land,
Wasting it near and far.
And the next lord these broad lands had,
A warrior stern was he,
He dwelt with camps and cannon more
Than sylvan glade and tree.
He died in battle; and his lands
By craft and deeds unfair,
His brother claimed and won, although
His infant son was heir.
This hard, bad man was miserly,
And loved no thing save gold;
He soon marked out the stately tree,
To be cut down and sold.
What was its beauty unto him?--
The grand and noble thing!
His dull eyes only measured well
What moneys it would bring.
But while he doomed the lordly oak,
His wicked life ebbed low,
And suddenly, death summoned him
From his ill-got hoards to go.
The grand estate--the ancient hall,
The woods, and wealth untold,
Came then unto that warrior’s child,
A boy of ten years old.
He was a thoughtful, quiet boy,
For though yet young in years,
His mother’s sorrows and his own
Had made him old in tears.
And with a calm and gentle joy
Came home that youthful heir,
For his chief source of gladness was,
To bring his mother there:--
To watch her sadly smile to see
Again each well-known spot,
Where days of happiness had passed,
That ne’er could be forgot:--
To have her former state restored,
Maidens, and serving-men;
And garments, richer than of old,
He bade them bring her then.
The gardens, that the miser had
Left all untrimmed and bare,
Were planted, pruned, and decked anew,
And stored with all things rare.
But chiefly did the lady love
One glade within the wood,
The shady glade, where broad and high,
The noble Oak tree stood.
Sad memories, yet sweet ones too,
For her that lone spot bore:
’Twas there she parted from her lord
To meet on earth no more!
’Twas there, beneath that tree, he spoke
His last, _last_ fond farewell!
From thence she watched him ride away