Still rolling on, with silver chime, In star-clad night and golden morning. In meadows danced round dark green mazes, Strewed flowers around the holy wells, But never trampled on the Daisies. They spared the star that lit their feet, The Daisy was so very sweet. When soothed awhile by milder airs, ; Whole summer fields are thine by right, When rains are on thee. In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Nor car'st if thou be set at naught: We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted. Miller. Wordsworth. I cannot gaze on aught that wears Or aught that in life's valley bears I cannot look upon a star, Or cloud that seems a seraph's car, P. Benjamin. The Daisy scattered on each meade and downe, Browne. There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, Montgomery. Heaven may awhile correct the virtuous, Doth oftentimes do; but like the sun breaks forth, And to our unexpecting eyes appears John Fountain. PERIWINKLE.... Tender Recollections. In France, the Periwinkle has been adopted as the emblem of the pleasures of memory and sincere friendship, probably in allusion to Rousseau's recollection of his friend, Madame de Warens, occasioned, after a lapse of thirty years, by the sight of this flower, which they together had admired. This plant is deeply rooted in the soil which it adorns. It throws out its shoots on all sides to clasp the earth, and covers it with flowers, which reflect the hue of heaven. Thus our first affections, warm, pure, and artless, seem to be of heavenly origin. Though the rock of my last hope is shivered, And its fragments are sunk in the wave, Though I feel that my soul is delivered To pain,—it shall not be its slave. There is many a pang to pursue me: They may crush, but they shall not contemn; They may torture, but shall not subdue me,— 'Tis of thee that I think, not of them. Byron. 'Tis sweet, and yet 'tis sad, that gentle power, The lesser Periwinkle's bloom, Like carpet of Damascus' loom, Pranks with bright blue the tissue wove Of verdant foliage: and above With milk-white flowers, whence soon shall swell Red fruitage, to the taste and smell Pleasant alike, the Strawberry weaves In mazes through the sloping wood. Where captivates the sky-blue Periwinkle Mant. Under the cottage eaves. Hurdis. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, Shakspeare. Oh! only those Whose souls have felt this one idolatry Can tell how precious is the slightest thing Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks Miss Landon. SWEET-BRIER, or Eglantine....Poetry. The Eglantine is the poet's flower. In the floral games, it was the prize for the best composition on the charms of study and eloquence. Though its flowers are most beautiful in hue, their fragrance is their more valuable quality. In like manner, the charms of poetry and eloquence should be considered superior to those of appearance. And well the poet, at her shrine, May bend and worship while he woos; The inspiration of his line, His loved one, and his muse. If to his song the echo rings Of fame 'tis woman's voice he hears; Halleck. Give me the poet's lyre! And as the seraph in his orbit sings, With music fill the mighty dome of mind, And the rapt souls of men in music brightly bind! J. W. H. |