Floral Poetry.
43
Posthumous glories! angel-like collection!
Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth,
Ye are to me a type of resurrection,
A second birth.
Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth,
Ye are to me a type of resurrection,
A second birth.
Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers or divines,
My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons, shrines!
Horace Smith.
Far from all voice of teachers or divines,
My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons, shrines!
Horace Smith.
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/b2/Rule_Segment_-_Span_-_40px.svg/40px-Rule_Segment_-_Span_-_40px.svg.png)
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/db/Rule_Segment_-_Diamond_-_4px.svg/5px-Rule_Segment_-_Diamond_-_4px.svg.png)
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/db/Rule_Segment_-_Diamond_-_4px.svg/5px-Rule_Segment_-_Diamond_-_4px.svg.png)
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THE SHEPHERD TO THE FLOWERS.
Sweet Violets, Love's paradise, that spread
Your gracious odours, which you, couchéd, bear
Within your paly faces,
Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind,
That plays amidst the plain!
If, by the favour of propitious stars, you gain
Such grace as in my lady's bosom place to find,
Be proud to touch those places:
And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear,
Whereby her dainty parts are sweetly fed,
You, honours of the flowery meads, I pray,
You pretty daughters of the earth and sun,
With mild and seemly breathing straight display
My bitter sighs, that have my heart undone!
Sir Walter Raleigh.
Your gracious odours, which you, couchéd, bear
Within your paly faces,
Upon the gentle wing of some calm-breathing wind,
That plays amidst the plain!
If, by the favour of propitious stars, you gain
Such grace as in my lady's bosom place to find,
Be proud to touch those places:
And when her warmth your moisture forth doth wear,
Whereby her dainty parts are sweetly fed,
You, honours of the flowery meads, I pray,
You pretty daughters of the earth and sun,
With mild and seemly breathing straight display
My bitter sighs, that have my heart undone!
Sir Walter Raleigh.