. The floral kingdom : its history, sentiment and poetry : A dictionary of more than three hundred plants, with the genera and families to which they belong, and the language of each illustrated with appropriate gems to poetry . Flower language; Flowers in literature. '^^. f^- %, ©axobiuitl iltstgcl)tint. Natural Osder: ConiferceâPine Family. HE scepter of Jupiter is said to have been made from the \vood of this tree, being symbolical of the eternity of his empire, as the wood is almost imperishable. It is one of the largest trees of the forest, having light green, open foliage, resembling th
. The floral kingdom : its history, sentiment and poetry : A dictionary of more than three hundred plants, with the genera and families to which they belong, and the language of each illustrated with appropriate gems to poetry . Flower language; Flowers in literature. '^^. f^- %, ©axobiuitl iltstgcl)tint. Natural Osder: ConiferceâPine Family. HE scepter of Jupiter is said to have been made from the \vood of this tree, being symbolical of the eternity of his empire, as the wood is almost imperishable. It is one of the largest trees of the forest, having light green, open foliage, resembling the yew. There are large swamps of it in the Southern States. The timber is light and durable. It is said that the Athenian heroes and mummies of Egypt were deposited in coffins made of it, and the Romans and all succeeding nations have associated it with mourning and graveyards. Shakespeare and innumerable other poets have immortalized its emblematic inrntttt. â pE of comfort, and your heavy sorrow Part equally among us; storms divided, Abate their force, and with less rage, are guided. ^Heywood. w HY dost thou come to me, sorrow? Why dost thou darken my soul? Why dost thou point to a morrow Engraven on destiny's scroll? âO. G. Htlghan. /~VH! weary years, ye have crushed my hopes, The altar fire burns dim and low; In sorrow's night my spirit gropes, Her smiting shadow on my brow. âEdith Malcolm. AFTER singing, silence; after roses, thorns; All the blackest midnights built o'er golden morns; After flowering, fading; bitter after sweet; Yellow, withered stubble, after waving wheat. âHoward Glytidon. TN my bosom sorrow reigneth, Soul and sense are sick with care; Bitterly my heart complaineth. At the load it needs to bear. O there are, amid earth's pleasures. Hours of bitter gloom and grief; When her dearest worldly treasures Bring us, sorrowing, no relief. -P. W. Russell. /^NARLING sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. âShake
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectflowers, bookyear1877
