Drops from Flora's Cup.

THE SNOWDROP.

The SNOWDROP rears its virgin head amid the storms of Iebruary, and comes as the first harbinger of milder seasons, breathing the voice of consolation. Thus beautifully speaks Montgomery :

Simple snowdrop! then in thee
All thy sister train I see:
Every brilliant bud that blows,
From the blue-bell to the rose;
All the beauties that appear
On the bosom of the year;

All that wreathe the locks of Spring,
Summer's ardent breath perfume,
Or on the lap of Autumn bloom,
All to thee their tribute bring,-

Exhale their incense at thy shrine,

Their hues, their odors all are thine!
For while their humble form I view,
The muse's keen prophetic sight

Brings fair Futurity to light,

And Fancy's magic makes the vision true.

THE PRIMROSE.

CARRINGTON.

Sweet herald of the ever gentlo Spring,
How gently wavéd o'er the winter's wing.
Around thee blew the warm Favonian gale,
Devonia nursed thee in her loveliest vale;
Beneath she rolled the Plym's pellucid stream,
And heaven diffused around its quickening beam.
But, ah! the sun, the shower, the zephyr bland,
Made thee but fair to tempt the spoiler's hand.
I cannot bear thee to thy bank again,
And bathe thy breast in soft refreshing rain,
Nor bid the gentle zephyr round thee play,
Nor, 'raptured, eye thee basking in the rav;
But snapped untimely from thy velvet stem,
Be thou my daily care, my bonnie gem.'
And when thus severed from thy native glade,
The radiance of thy cinqued-rayed star shall fade,
And pale decay come creeping o'er thy bloom,
A sigh, dear flower, shall mourn thy early doom.

The Primrose, tenant of the glade,
Emblem of virtue in the shade.

JOHN MAYNE.

HEART'S-EASE.

K2S. SHERIDAN.

In gardens oft a beauteous flower there grows,
By vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen;

In sweet security it humbly blows,

And rears its purple head to deck the green.

This flower, as Nature's poet sweetly sings,

Was once milk-white, and heart's-ease' was its

name,

Till wanton Cupid poised its roseate wings,

A vestal's sacred bosom to inflame.

With treacherous arm the god his arrow drew,
Which she with icy coldness did repel;
Rebounding thence, with feathery speed it flew
Till on this lonely flower, at last it fell.

Heart's-ease no more the wandering shepherd found;

No more the nymphs its snowy form possess; Its white now changed to purple by love's wound, Heart's-ease no more, - 't is love in idleness.

And these are pansies that's for thought.

SHAKSPEARE.

THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

PERCIVAL.

Intern 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.

The rose is a sign of joy and love,

Young, blushing love in its earliest dawn; And the mildness that suits the gentle dove, From the myrtle's snowy flower is drawn.

Innocence shines in the lily's bell,

Pure as the heart in its native heaven; Fame's bright star and glory's swell,

By the glossy leaf of the bay are given.

The silent, soft, and humble heart

In the violet's hidden sweetness breathes;
And the tender soul that cannot part,
A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes.

The cypress, that daily shades the grave,
Is sorrow, that mourns her bitter lot;
And faith, that a thousand ills can brave,
Speaks to thy blue leaves-forget-me-not.

BRING FLOWERS.

MRS. HEMANS.

Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is poured;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and
vale,

Their breath floats out on the southern gale,

And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the

rose,

To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.

Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror's path
He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath!
He comes with the spoils of nations back,
The vines he crushed in his chariot's track,
The turf looks red where he won the day —
Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way!

Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell,
They have tales of the joyous woods to tell;
Of the free, blue streams, and the glowing sky,
And the bright world shut from his languid eye;
They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours,
And a dream of his youth bring flowers, wild
flowers!

Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear!
They were born to blush in her shining hair.
She is leaving the home of her childhood's mirth,
She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth,