M THE FLOWERS. "Flowers are the alphabet of angels, by which They write on every hill and vale things unutterable." Mrs Hemans. LOVE the flowers of every clime and season, The lovely flowers of every class and hue; An impulse holy, sanctified by reason, I feel divinely all my powers renew. When brightly spangle they the mead and mountain, I love the flowers: the flowers who ever slighted, A The more minute their curious conformation Instinctively we feel o'erwhelmed the breast. How dull and drivelling compared her part! I love the flowers!-ah! who can cope with Nature, The meanest, humblest floral form and feature Flash through the whole, without one tribe preferring, While nameless loveliness and beauty shine, I love the flowers,-as tacitly loquacious Of adoration and sublimity, Inspiring heartfelt and unfeigned devotion, I love the flowers!—though fraught with illustrations Of the Eternal, blessed over all; |