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VOICE OF FLOWERS.
GOSSIP WITH A SPRING BOUQUET.
Speak, speak, sweet guests.
Yes, ope your lips in words.
'Tis my delight to talk with you, and fain
I'd have an answer. I've been long convinced
You understand me,—though you do not choose
To wear your bright thoughts on your finger-tips,
For all to sport with.
Lily of the Vale,
And you, meek Violet, with your eyes of blue,
I call on you the first,—for well I know
How prone such village maidens are, to hide
Their clear good sense among the city folks,
Unless well urged, and fortified to speak.
—O purple Pansy! friend of earliest years,
You're always welcome. Have you never heard
