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the language of gems.
"It is softer than warble of fairy or bird !
'Tis the music of soul—the sweet language of flowers!"
'Tis the music of soul—the sweet language of flowers!"
No longer the lover impassion'd bestows
The pearl or the ruby;—in Hope's sunny hours
lie twines for his maiden a myrtle and rose—
'Tis the echo of Love, the pure language of flowers.
The pearl or the ruby;—in Hope's sunny hours
lie twines for his maiden a myrtle and rose—
'Tis the echo of Love, the pure language of flowers.
But the pearl and the ruby are sadly dismay'd;
I saw a fair girl lay them lightly aside,
And blushingly wreathe, in her hair's simple braid,
The white orange flower that betray'd her a bride;
I saw a fair girl lay them lightly aside,
And blushingly wreathe, in her hair's simple braid,
The white orange flower that betray'd her a bride;
And I fancied I heard the poor jewels bewail,
At least they changed countenance strangely, I'm sure;
For the pearl blush'd with shame, and the ruby turn'd pale:—
Indeed 'twas too much for a stone to endure.
At least they changed countenance strangely, I'm sure;
For the pearl blush'd with shame, and the ruby turn'd pale:—
Indeed 'twas too much for a stone to endure.
And I, who had ever a passion for gems,
From the diamond's star-smile to the ruby's deep flame;
From the diamond's star-smile to the ruby's deep flame;
