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The foxglove, with its stately bells
To decorate the fading year;
And larkspurs, many-hued, shall drive
Gloom from the groves, where red leaves lie,
D. M. MOIR-The Birth of the Flowers. St. 14.
Anemones and seas of gold,
And new-blown lilies of the river, And those sweet flow'rets that unfold Their buds on Camadera's quiver.
MOORE-Lalla Rookh. Light of the Harem.
He bore a simple wild-flower wreath:
And every purest flower, that blows
In that sweet time, which Love most blesses, When spring on summer's confines presses. THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK-Rhododaphne. Canto I. L. 107.
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. PERCIVAL-The Language of Flowers.
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground. POPE-Windsor Forest.