If spirits, pure as those who kneel

Around the throne of light above,

The power of beauty's spell could feel,
And lose a heaven for woman's love,—
What marvel that a heart like mine
Enraptured by thy charms should be!
Forget to bend at glory's shrine,

And lose itself—ay, heaven—for thee!

Memorial.

Fain would I speak the thoughts I bear to thee,
But they do choke and flutter in my throat,
And make me like a child.

Joanna Baillie.

Cypress.... Mourning.

The ancients consecrated the Cypress to the Fates, the Furies and Pluto. They placed it near tombs. The people of the East retain the same custom in the decoration of their cemeteries. The Turks plant the Cypress at the head and at the foot of the graves. According to Ovid, the Cypress derived its name from Cyparissos, an especial friend of Apollo's, who, in grief at having inadvertently killed a favourite stag of his, prayed the gods that his mourning might be made perpetual, and was changed into a Cypress tree, the branches of which were thenceforward used at funerals.

Lady dear! this history
Is thy fated lot,
Ever such thy watching
For what cometh not,

Till with anxious waiting dull,
Round thee fades the beautiful;

Still thou seekest on, though weary,

Seeking still in vain.

Miss Landon.

Thou art lost to me for ever,—I have lost thee, Isadore, Thy head will never rest upon my loyal bosom more. Thy tender eyes will never more gaze fondly into mine, Nor thine arms around me lovingly and trustingly en

twine.

Thou art dead and gone, loving wife,—thy heart is still and cold,—

And I at one stride have become most comfortless and

old;

Of our whole world of love and song, thou wast the

only light,

A star, whose setting left behind, ah! me, how dark a

night!

Thou art lost to me, for ever, Isadore.

Albert Pike.

The Cypress is the emblem of mourning.

Shakspeare.

Alas, for earthly joy, and hope, and love,

Thus stricken down, e'en in their holiest hour! What deep, heart-wringing anguish must they prove, Who live to weep the blasted tree or flower! Oh, wo, deep wo to earthly love's fond trust, When all it once has worshipped lies in dust!

Mrs. Embury.

WALL-FLOWER....Fidelity in Adversity.

This flower derives its name from the circumstance of its growing upon old walls, the casements and battlements of ancient castles, and among the ruins of abbeys. The troubadors were accustomed to wearing a bouquet of Wall-flowers, as the emblem of an affection which is proof against time and the frowns of fortune.

Adah.—Alas! thou sinnest now, my Cain; thy

words

Sound impious in mine ears.

Cain. Then leave me!

Adah.—Never,

Though thy God left thee!

Byron.

An emblem true thou art

Of love's enduring lustre given

To cheer a lonely heart.

Barton.

Flower of the solitary place!

Gray Ruin's golden crown,
That lendest melancholy grace
To haunts of old renown;
Thou mantlest o'er the battlements
By strife or storm decayed;

And fillest up each envious rent

Time's canker-tooth hath made.

Moir.

Though human, thou didst not deceive me;

Though woman, thou didst not forsake;
Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me;

Though slandered, thou never couldst shake;
Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me;
Though parted, it was not to fly;
Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me;
Nor, mute, that the world might belie.

Yes, love! my breast, at sorrow's call,
Shall tremble like thine own;
If from those eyes the tear-drops fall,
They shall not fall alone.

Our souls, like heaven's aerial bow,
Blend every light within their glow,

Of joy or sorrow known;

And grief, divided with thy heart,
Were sweeter far than joy apart.

HAWTHORN....Hope.

Byron.

Anon.

VARIOUS significations have been given to the Hawthorn. Among the Turks, a branch of it expresses the wish of a lover to receive a kiss from the object of his affection. Among the ancient Greeks, the Hawthorn was a symbol of conjugal union; its blossomed boughs were carried about at their wedding festivities, and the newly-married couple were even lighted to their bridal chamber with torches made of its wood. In England, the Hawthorn is used in the sports of May-days, and is, therefore, frequently called May. There is a

proverb among the rural inhabitants of that country, that a "store of haws portend cold winters." Though the Hawthorn is quoted as the emblem of Hope, it must be considered more particularly as the lover's hope.

HOW MAY WAS FIRST MADE.

As Spring upon a silver cloud
Lay looking on the world below,
Watching the breezes as they bowed

The buds and blossoms to and fro,
She saw the fields with Hawthorns walled:
Said Spring, "New buds I will create."
She to a Flower-Spirit called,

Who on the month of May did wait,
And bade her fetch a Hawthorn-spray,
That she might make the buds of May.
Said Spring, "The grass looks green and bright,
The Hawthorn-hedges too are green,
I'll sprinkle them with flowers of light,
Such stars as earth has never seen;
And all through England's girded vales,
Her steep hill-sides and haunted streams,
Where woodlands dip into the dales,

Where'er the Hawthorn stands and dreams,
Where thick-leaved trees make dark the day,
I'll light each nook with flowers of May.
Like pearly dew-drops, white and round,
The shut-up buds shall first appear,
And in them be such fragrance found,
As breeze before did never bear;