The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1901-03-21
BILL ARP'S LETTER
Advent Of Balmy Spring Arouses
Barlow Man to Reflections,
DROPS NONCHALENTLY INTO POETRY
He Draws Inspiration From the Works
of Many Writers. and Accordingly Is
In Happy Mood.

How inspiring is the earliest breath
of spring when nature like blushing
maid is putting on her pantalets and
preparing to bang her sill1en hair.
What harmonious feeling spring up in
ones bosom and gush forth to all man
kind. A balmy day fills all the cham
bers of the soul with music that is not
heard aud poetry that is not expressed.
Spring is unlocking the flowers I see
sweet violets peeping from their leafy
beds and johnquills lifting their yellow
bells to catch the sunshine. What
rebuke to man is the innocence and
beauty of the fowers--what contrast
to cruelty and strife and selfishness.
The love of flowers is refining and
draws man nearer to woman and to
heaven, and it is safe to say whatever
woman loves, man had better love,
i or try to. Flowers, music and birds
are given for our happiness. They are
the extras of creation designed for our
special pleasure Providence would
, have withheld them if He had not loved
us. Or He might have given us only
the bowling of the winds for music
and buzzards for birds and dog-fennel
for flowers. The love of flowers is
close akin to the love of children.
Madam deSteal said that music was
the only thing upon the earth that we
would find in heaven, for it was COM
mon to angels and to man, but she
dident know. If there are beautiful
mansions and golden streets and gates
of pearl and trees whose leaves are for
the healing of the nations, why not
flowers? Spencer in his "Farie Queen"
says: "And is there care in heaven
and love in heavenly spirits for the
fowers?"
Wadsworth says:
at is my faith that every flower that blooms
Enjoys the air it breathes"
The more uncuItered and unrefned
man is the less he cares for flowers
and music and birds. Cowper says he
would not number on his list of friends
man who would uselessly tread up
on a worm. Shakespeare says the man
who has no music in his soul is fit for
treason, stratagems and spoils. Some
years ago [ was trying to sell cottage
home to q rough man who wanted to
buy and [ pointed out the beautiful
roses that adorned the front yard. He
turned away carelessly and said: 81
don't care anything about them sort
of things. If I buy your house you
incident add airy cent for blossoms.
The poet says: ''The humblest flower
+hat hIoor,c civ bou oh too IooYl Cor
tears" But there are folks who care
no more for beautiful flower than an
ugly weed
"a Primrose by the rivers brim
y A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more"
The poets in all ages have paid
tribute to the flowers. One of the
most beautiful poems aver written is
the code to the Flowers" by Horace
Smith 1t is among the classics of
old England.
ssYour voiceless lips are living preachers,
Each cup pulpit and each leaf book.
"Floral apostles that in dewy splendor
Weep without woe and blush without
crime"
Mrs. Hemans says:
1.-THE flowers whisper the all fostering love
That clothed them into beauty"
Longfellow says:
s'They teach US by persuasive reasons
How akin they are to human things.
s'Emblems of our coming resurrection,
Emblems of the bright and better land"
But Mrs. Hemans sings the most
fascinating songs to flowers-when she
tires of other subjects she takes rest
on flowers:
. "Bring flowers flowers for the bride
to wear,
They were born to blush in her shining
4 hair.
Bring lowers-pale flowers DER the bier
to shed,
A crown for the brow of the early dead.
"Brlng flowers to the shrine where we
kneel in prayer,
ii They are natures oftering-their place Is
there.
n Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell,
They have tales of the joyous woods to tel"
81 Shakespeare had a great heart for
VI flowers, and he knew them like a bot
\ anist. There is not common or IA
miliar one that he does not bring to
pleasant use in some of his plays.
How pathetically he laments the death
of Imogen:
s.Wlth fairest flowers I'll sweeten thy sad
grave.
N Thou shalt not lack the flowers that's Ike
thy face,
rAle priInrose-nor the azurd harebeu ike
thy yeins-nor the leaf of englantine
that outsweetened not thy breath"