Flora's Interpreter, Or The American Book of Flowers and Sentiments

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B.B. Mussey & Company, 1848 - Flower language - 262 pages
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Page 251 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere, Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young...
Page 96 - Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh, my latest sigh Will not be life's but hers. I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon— Her health! and would on earth there stood, Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name.
Page 17 - The eternal regions : lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold ; Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life...
Page 251 - The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side. In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the...
Page 157 - OH, fairest of the rural maids ! Thy birth was in the forest shades ; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thine infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild ; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy face. The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks ; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves.
Page 233 - As that the sweet-brier yields it ; and the shower Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower One half so lovely ; yet it grows along The poor girl's pathway, by the poor man's door. Such are the simple folks it dwells among; And humble as the bud, so humble be the song.
Page 145 - Here are sweet peas, on tip-toe for a flight: With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings.
Page 143 - Smiles, in her bridal vesture clad, and crowned with festal flowers, So radiantly beautiful, so like to heaven above, We scarce can deem more fair that world of perfect bliss and love.
Page 83 - This doating heart will be, Which while it throbs, throbs only Beloved one, for thee ! Yet do not think I doubt thee, I know thy truth remains. I would not live without thee, For all the world contains. Thou art the star that...
Page 13 - IN Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares ; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears.

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