Flowers.

Anonymous.

THERE are flowers rouud about me

THERE

As I sit beneath the lime;

Sweet lowly things are breathing

The breath of olden time.

They look so kindly upward,

I greet them as my friends;

And my mind to each small blossom
Such holy beauty lends,

That, as if to living creatures,
Where'er my glance may fall,
On the blue-bells or the daisies,
I say, "God bless you all!"

Go forth, my little daughter,
The mid-day heat is o'er,
Go forth among the flowers,
And gather thee a store.

The Daisies, see how gayly
Like litle stars they shine,
The darlings of thy childhood,
As once they were of mine.

The Blue-bell-when I see it,

My thoughts fly back once more, To a pine-wood, whose recesses With its bloom were purpled o'er.

Go forth, dear child, and pluck them,
And bring thy spoils to me;
Thou lov'st the gay, bright colors,
Though thou seest not what I see!

To me they bring remembrance
Of many long past Springs;
They are types to me and shadows
Of yet more lovely things.

They have sprung in joyous beauty
From the drear and wintry earth,

When all was dead and dreary,

They have brought their new-born mirth.

FLOWERS.

Their stems are weak and fragile,
To the faintest wind they bend,
Yet their coming is a token

That death is not our end.

Not more of love than wisdom
Was theirs, who round the tomb
First brought, in faith far-seeing,
Gay flowers to bud and bloom.

On

every

leaf is written

A sweet consoling thought;

The hope of life upspringing

From death, by them is brought.

My child, my happy darling,
Go pluck me many a one,
Though thou'rt the gayest flower
That smiles beneath the sun!

Go forth, thou blessed being,

And bring thy sweet spoils here,
Though I need no other token
Of heaven, when thou art near!

I need no other token

Than thy fair and happy face, Through which on me are beaming God's mercy and God's grace.

35

Blue Flowers.

Caroline Eustis.

OU ask what flowers I love the best,

γου

When Spring calls forth her pretty train, And, each in cheerful garments dressed, She sends them forth o'er hill and plain. Give me blue flowers

To grace my bowers,

The perfect color-heaven's own blue;

Sweet violet,

In emerald set,

And glistening with the fragrant dew;
Or by the brook,

With downcast look,

The modest harebell's fairy form

I love to see,

Where, lovely, she

Doth bend her head to meet the storm.

BLUE FLOWERS.

Blue flowers!-Oh give me fair blue flowers!
So pleadingly their azure eyes
Uplook in mine in morning's hours,
Taking their color from the skies:
Of heaven they learn;

To heaven they turn

Their opening eyes at break of day ;
And heaven doth shed

On each fair head,

A blessing on them where they lay;
A blessing meet

For flowers so sweet,

A portion of her glory bright.
Let our prayer be,

Oh thus may we

Be clothed upon with robes of light!

37