The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1875-05-07
Flower ThOughts and Fancies.

|
Somebody says that flowers are the
Fugitive poetry of nature;" and to
wild flowers most eminently be-
longs the remark. Our cultivated
flowers cannot be called fugitive
poetry ;" we do not find them scattered
along the roadsides, smiling to the
brooks, nodding on hills to every breeze.
Not theyl They are collected and
placed in our houses and conservatOries,
labeled, and surrounded by the costly
accessories which belong to all vol
umes of collected poetry.
But with wild flowers it is different.
We come upon them, indeed, as upon
scraps of poetry tucked into the cor
ner of some newspaper of everyday
life, and in the one case, as in the other,
exclaim in sort of patronizing surprise ::
"Why, how pretty that is!
One cannot, however, be very well
acquainted with the woodlands, with
out quickly losing any feeling. OF
! patronage he may once have had.
There are so many dainty wild bios
| SONS to harmonize with any mood in
which they may be approached, beheld
or gathered.
We find all sorts of poetry speaking
from them; palest of blue hare bells,
which suggest dainty poem, full of
| tenderness without strong passion,
which indeed, they, as we'll as people,
are better without. Then there are
violets, blue and white and yellow, like
little ballads, tales of unconscious hero
ines gill over. the-ground, Immediately
reminding one of scores of verses he
has seen in the neglected corner of some
country paper with blue bits of pret-
tiness scattered here and there, but so
small that one doesn't care for the
trouble of hunting them out and be-
sides, like those scraps of verse, there
is so much of it that it can be had at
any time.
But flowers, also, tell us other things;
they are vivid reminders of people we
have known of faces we have seen,
hearts we have learned to love and
trust.
Who can ever see valley-lily, with
out feeling of tender greeting, or Ito
go from the pretty to the absurd who
can look at one of those saucy Jack-in-
the-puipits, peeping up out of its green
sheath, and not expect it to speak, and
in an Grafton as long as a country min
listers, tell of it's relationship to the
regal Gala? Poor rela tions, truly
How indignant the Gala would be
Then there are the lovely blossoms
of the spring beauty, at which one feels
as much surprise as at finding Perdita
in shepherds cottage.
The flowers of the mullen are like
families In a tenement house, pretty
enough individually, but collectively
well, they'd be rather unpleasant guests,
to say the least of it.
Autumn flowers are like stories of
the tropics. Their very names are sug-
Restive-golden-r flaming pinxster,
trumpet flowers.
And water-lilies what shall we say
of them? Lovely, fearful Undines,
gifted with souls through unavoidable
wretchedness. And, by the way, what
a beautiful aIlegory that is, and alas
how true to life.
But if water-lilies have souls, wood
land vines certainly have no conscience.
Running along the ground, climbing up
trees, clinging to fences, making use of
anything and verything, without so |
much as 'by your leave" and to be
summed like parasitical friends, which,
like them, once given afooting, can not
easily be removed. -'~---. --
It is quite a pretty amusement to
trace in flowers resemblances to ones
friends. We have often heard people
say that every human being islike some
animal Of so, some of them are Ger
tainly only fossil remains, which, by the
way, has nothing to do with the sub
iect).
The resemblance of every one to some
flower is quite as easily traceable.
Bright, insipid verbenas, queenly lilies,
royal iaponicas. The readers of ro-
nance are familiar with herOines who
are like them all, and can find among
their friends the same characteristics.
How peoples dispositions show forth
in their favorite flowers ! Some care
only for roses, seeing no beauty, SMELL
ing no perfume in anything else. Such
people are apt to be singularly pure in
life and actions, tender in all loves and
friendships, but exclusive in everything.
Hosts of people prefer pansies, and are
justly indignant with the writer who
said that they always reminded him of
| monkey faces. LOvein- n-idleness, hearts
ease, thoughts, there never
was a flower with so many pet names.
People of liberal tastes have, of course,
their favorites, but like nearly all flow
ers. There certainly is nothing which
contributes more to the beauty of a
home than flowers, and nothing so full
of pretty fanoies.
''Spake full we'll in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and
golden,
Stars that in earth's armament do shine.
- TUe 1lIi0e