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The lady who has been absent during the farewell month of summer may return to the scene of her laughs and joys, and find the street, the house, the chamber, the same; the circle of friends unbroken by a death or a sorrow; trace, in the teeming life around her, of time's changes. But that evidence will meet the eye in the flower garden. The weeds that have thickened in the alley have choked the choicest flower. The moss tufts have withered with the heat of August. The lily waves its graceful leaf faintly over its fellows. The dahlia, which her "sweet and cunning hand" had reared, and cherished with affection, has fallen beneath the deep shades of the growing vine that has frowned away its life and its radiant colors. The place is more changed than any other. It is beautiful but for its treasured memories still beautiful, though clothed in the drooping fall robes of the year; but clear it is, that
"Time's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers."
Here, then, where delicate taste directed the culture in May; where soft hands caressed the June rosebud, and brushed away the early dew; a soothing picture of melancholy rises in the view. The maiden laugh is suppressed. But why should it be? What though
"The shadows of departed hours
They, in their day, smiled and blossomed; and so should she, who represents the delicacy of the flowers, the modesty of its unfolding petals, its bloom, and its purity.
Flowers contain the language and sentiments of the heart, thus: The fair lily is an image of holy innocence; the purple rose a figure of unfelt love; faith is represented to us in the blue passion flower; hope beams forth from the evergreen; peace from the olive branch; immortality from immortelle; the cares of life are represented by the rosemary; the victory of the spirit by the palm; modesty by the blue, fragrant violet; compassion by the ivy; tenderness by the myrtle; affectionate reminiscence by the forget-me-not; natural honesty and fidelity by the oak leaf; unassumingness by the corn flower; and the auricula, "how friendly they look upon us with their childlike eyes!" Even the dispositions of the human soul are expressed by flowers. Thus silent grief is portrayed by the weeping willow; sadness by the angelica; shuddering by the aspen; melancholy by the cypress; desire of meeting again by the starwort; the night rocket is a figure of life, as it stands on the frontier between light and darkness. Thus Nature, by these flowers, seems to betoken her loving sympathy with us; and whom hath she not often more consoled than heartless and voiceless men are able to do?
How uneasy is his life
Who is troubled with a wife!
What! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
Yet uneasy is his life
Who is married to a wife.
HAST thou one heart that loves thee,
Whose thoughts are all thine own?
Till the kind voice that blessed thee
I CANNOT, will not longer brook
Thy cold delay, thy prudent look.
I will abide no half-way love,
Life of my life, at once my fate decree;
O, how impatience gains upon the soul,