Sivut kuvina

It then exerts its gentle power
The scene to beautify.


An emblem true thou art

Of love's enduring lustre, given
To cheer a lonely heart.


And our friend Moir (Delta of Blackwood's Magazine) pays this feeling tribute to the Wallflower.

The Wallflower, the Wallflower!

How beautiful it blooms ! It gleams above the ruined tower,

Like sunlight over tombs ; It sheds a halo of

repose Around the wrecks of time; To beauty give the flauuting rose —

The Wallflower is sublime.

Flower of the solitary place!

Gray Ruin's golden crown, That lendest melancholy grace

To haunts of old Renown: Thou mantlest o'er the battlement,

By strife or storm decay'd ; And fillest up each envious rent

Time's canker-tooth hath made.

Whither hath fled the choral band

That fill'd the abbey's nave?

Yon dark sepulchral yew-trees stand

O’er many a level grave.
In the belfry's crevices, the dove

Her young brood nurseth well,
Whilst thou, lone flower, dost shed above

A sweet, decaying smell.

In the season of the tulip-cup,

When blossoms clothe the trees, How sweet to throw the lattice up,

And scent thee on the breeze!
The butterfly is then abroad,

The bee is on the wing,
And on the hawthorn by the road

The linnets sit and sing.

Sweet Wallflower, sweet Wallflower!

Thou conjurest up to me
Full many a soft and sunny hour

Of boyhood's thoughtless glee ;
When joy from out the daisies grew

In woodland pastures green,
And summer skies were far more blue

Than since they e'er have been.

Now Autumn's pensive voice is heard

Amid the yellow bowers; The robin is the regal bird,

And thou the queen of flowers !
He sings on the laburnum trees,

Amid the twilight dim,
And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such scents as thou to him.

Rich is the pink, the lily gay,

The rose is summer's guest; Bland are thy charms when these decay

Of flowers first, last, and best!
There may be gaudier in the bower,

And statelier on the tree
But Wallflower, loved Wallflower,

Thou art the flower for me!



The ancients attributed the origin of this flower to the metamorphosis of a beautiful youth named Narcissus, who, having slighted the love of the nymph Echo, became enamoured of his own image, which he beheld in a fountain, and pined to death in consequence.

Here young Narcissus o'er the fountain stood,
And viewed his image in the crystal flood;
The crystal flood reflects his lovely charms,
And the pleased image strives to meet his arms.
No nymph his inexperienced breast subdued,
Echo in vain the flying boy pursued.
Himself alone the foolish youth admires,
And with fond look the smiling shade desires.
O’er the smooth lake with fruitless tears he grieves ;
His spreading fingers shoot in verdant leaves :
Through his pale veins green sap now gently flows;
And in a short-lived flower his beauty blows.
Let vain Narcissus warn each female breast
That beauty's but a transient good at best;
Like flowers, it withers with th' advancing year,
And age, like winter, robs the blooming fair.


There are several species of the Narcissus. That called the Poetic is the largest of the white kinds, and may be distinguished from all others by the crimson border of the very shallow and almost flat cup of the nectary. The double variety is the most frequent in gardens. The narrow-leafed crimson-edged Narcissus is the only one that resembles the Poetic, but it is not much more than half as large, with narrower leaves, a flatter form, and the edge of the nectary more prominent. It flowers earlier than the other.

The Yellow Narcissus is better known by the name of Daffodil. By early writers this flower was considered as a species of lily. It has even been conjectured that the name is a corruption of Dis’s Lily, as it is supposed to be the flower dropped from the chariot of Dis or Pluto, in his flight with Proserpine.

Shakspeare, in his Winter's Tale, alludes to this story, as well as to the early season in which the Daffodil flowers :

O Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou lett'st fall
From Dis's waggon: Daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

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