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LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS,
Here Spring appears, with flowery chaplets bound.
Fresh Spring, the herald of love's mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are display'd All sorts of flowres the which on earth do spring, In goodly colours gloriously array'd.
Now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole These balmy spoils.
Who loves not Spring's voluptuous hours,
Though the Snowdrop cannot perhaps, strictly speaking, be called one of the flowers of spring, still, as the herald of that season, we may be excused for placing it at the head of them.
Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace,
Awakes to life, bedewed with tears,
A beauteous gem appears.
Its parent breast the drifted snow,
On its cold bed below.
Where'er I find thee, gentle flower,
Thou still art sweet and dear to me!
This firstling of the year may not inaptly be considered as an emblem of hope. Some have regarded it as a symbol of humility, of gratitude, and of virgin innocence.
The north wind howls; the naked branches of the trees are powdered with hoar frost; the earth is covered by a white, uniform carpet; the tuneful birds are silent; the captive rivulet ceases to murmur. At this season, when all Nature appears dead, a delicate flower springs up amidst the snow, displaying to the astonished eye its ivory bells, embosoming a small green spot, as if marked by the pencil of Hope. In expanding its blossoms on the snow, this delicate flower seems to smile at the rigours of winter, and to say: -“Take courage; here I am to cheer you with the hope of milder weather!”
COQUETRY - DESIRE TO PLEASE.
The stalk of this shrub is covered with a dry bark, which gives to it the appearance of dead wood. Nature, to hide this deformity, has encircled each of its sprays with a garland of red flowers, wreathed round them and terminating in a small tuft of leaves, in the manner of the pineapple. These flowers, which appear in the month of February, give out a peculiar and dangerous smell.
This shrub, clothed in its showy garb, appears amidst the snow like an imprudent and coquettish female, who, though shivering with cold, wears her spring attire in the depth of winter.
From the early bloom of this flower, it is called by Linneus, the father of the modern system of botany, Primula Veris— the firstling of Spring. The Auricula, Polyanthus, and Cowslip, belong to this family.
The Primrose was anciently called Paralisos, the name of a beautiful youth, who died of grief for the loss of his betrothed Melicerta, and was metamorphosed by his parents into this flower, which has since divided the favour of the poets with the Violet and the Rose.
Beneath the sylvan canopy, the ground