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EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

PLATE I. FRONTISPIECE. Crown IMPERIAL. TURK'S-CAP Lily. LILY OF THE VALLEY.—You have the power to restore me to happiness.

Plate II. Page 72. SCARLET IPOMEA. LAURUSTINUS. CONVOLVULUS.—I attach myself to you, but shall die if neglected.

PLATE III. Page 132. JASMINE. STRAWBERRY. TULIP.-Be not too early entangled in the charms of love, or yours will be a life of inquietude.

PLATE IV. Page 192. Rose. Ivy. MYRTLE. — To Beauty, Friendship and Love.

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THE

LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

EARTH hath a thousand tongues, that swell

In converse soft, and low-
We hear them in the flowery dell,

And where the waters flow.
We note them when the pliant reed

Bends to the summer air,
Its low-toned music gently freed

By the soft breezes there; And angels from their starry height, On hills, and dales, and green banks write.

There is a language in each flower

That opens to the eye,
A voiceless — but a magic power,

Doth in earth's blossoms lie;
The flowering Almond, first to bring

Its perfume to the brceze, The earliest at the call of spring,

Among the green-clad trees, Whispers of Indiscretion's fate, Trusting too soon--convinced too late.

The Wall Flower clinging cheerfully,

Amid decaying bloom, Tells of the heart's fidelity,

In stern misfortune's gloom ;
And like the clasping Ivy vine,

When all around depart,
Closer in storms the bonds entwine,

Of friendship round the heart.
And glory's crown is proudly seen,
In the bright Laurel's evergreen.
Hope smiles amid the blossoms white

That crown the Hawthorn bough, And in the Myrtle's leaflets bright,

Love softly breathes his vow. The little Lily of the Vale

Seems sent our hearts to bless, Still whispering, on spring's balmy gale,

Return of Happiness. While blooming on some favour'd spot, We trust to thee, Forget-me-not.

And quivering to the lightest wind

That fans the summer flower,
The Aspen's tender leaves we find,

Shrinking beneath its power,
At every trembling breath that steals

Its spreading boughs between,
Each little blossom's leaf reveals

A pang of misery keen;

Like lightly utter'd careless words,
Wounding the heart's half-broken chords.

Woe for the Aspen tree — and woe

For hearts too finely strung,
The tempest wind shall round them blow,

And heart and branch, be wrung ;
The storm's dread wing shall o’er them sweep,

And bow them to the blast,
While each must early learn, to weep

The hopes that could not last :
The bosom's sensibility,
Is pictured in the Aspen tree.

The little Blue Bell lifts its head

The Amaryllis beside, Emblems, upon their grassy bed,

Of Lowliness and Pride,
Bright as the summer's bluest cloud,

Each opening Bell appears,
The sun, that gilds the floweret proud,

Its humble blossom cheers ;
Sweeter the Blue Bell's lowly mien,
Than Pride, in dazzling radiance seen.

The variegated Columbine

Hangs its bright head to earth, As half ashamed the sun should shine

Upon its place of birth;

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