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The Lily of the Valley delights in shady glens and the banks of murmuring brooks, where its exquisitely beautiful flower is modestly concealed amidst the broad, bright green leaves which surround its delicate and graceful bells. In floral language it is made to represent a return of happiness, because it announces by its elegance and its odour the happy season of

the year.

That shy plant, the Lily of the Vale,
That loves the ground, and from the sun withholds
Her pensive beauty, from the breeze her sweets.


The Lily, whose sweet beauties seem
As if they must be sought.


And, sweetest to the view,
The Lily of the Vale, whose virgin flower
Trembles at every breeze, beneath its leafy bower.


And ye, whose lowlier pride
In sweet seclusion seems to shrink from view,

You of the valley named, no longer hide
Your blossoms, meet to twine the brow of purest bride.

Fair flower, that, lapt in lowly glade,
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade,

Than whom the vernal gale
None fairer wakes on branch or spray,
Our England's Lily of the May,

Our Lily of the Vale.
Art thou that “Lily of the field,”
Which, when the Saviour sought to shield

The heart from blank despair,
He showed to our mistrustful kind
An emblem of the thoughtful mind,

Of God's paternal care ?
Not thus, I trow; for brighter shine
To the warm skies of Palestine

Those children of the East.

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But not the less, sweet spring-tide's flower,
Dost thou display thy Maker's power,

His skill and handiwork ;
Our western valleys' humbler child,
Where, in green nook of woodland wild,

Thy modest blossoms lurk.
What though nor care nor art be thine,
The loom to ply, the thread to twine,

Yet born to bloom and fade,

Thee, too, a lovelier robe arrays,
Than, even in Israel's brightest days,

Her wealthiest king arrayed :

Of thy twin leaves the embowered screen,
Which wraps thee in thy shroud of green,

Thy Eden-breathing smell;
Thy arched and purple-vested stem,
Whence pendent many a pearly gem

Displays a milk-white bell

Who forms thee thus with unseen hand ?
Who at creation gave command,

And willed thee thus to be;
And keeps thee still in being, through
Age after age revolving ?-Who
But the great God is He?



Why,” said the young mother of a family one day to the venerable village pastor, “why did you not plant a strong quickset hedge round your garden instead of this weak hedge of flowering Privet?” The benevolent minister replied, “ When you forbid your child a hurtful pleasure, the prohibition is sweetened by an affectionate smile, by a kind look; and, if he is refractory, a mother's hand immediately offers some plaything to pacify him. In like manner, the pastor's hedge, while it keeps off intruders, should not hurt any one, but offer flowers even to those whom it repels.”

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The winds have now purified the atmosphere, diffused the seeds of vegetation over the earth, and dispersed the gloomy vapours of winter. The air is fresh and pure; the sky seems to expand above our head; the lawns grow vividly green on all sides, and the trees push forth their young and verdant buds. Nature is about to put on her dress of flowers; but she first prepares an harmonious ground for her painting; and, covering it with one general tint of green, which she varies infinitely, rejoices the eye and cheers the heart with promise.

We have already detected in shady dells the violet, the daisy, the primrose, and the golden flower of the dandelion. Let us now approach the skirts of the wood; there the Anemone and the Periwinkle stretch their long parterre of verdure and flowers: these two friendly plants are mutual foils to each other's charms. The

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