POPPY.... Consolation. The Red Poppy is the floral symbol of consolation. The White Poppy is supposed to express, "My bane, my antidote." The juice extracted from these plants is employed to soothe the restless invalid to sleep, and to ease the pangs of disease. According to the mythology of the Grecians, the Poppy owed its origin to Ceres, who created it to assuage her grief, during her search after her daughter Proserpine, who was carried off by Pluto. The Poppy is extensively cultivated in Europe, for the purpose of making opium from it. Many species are cultivated in the garden. The double flowers possess surpassing beauty, whether we consider their delicate texture, elegance of shape, or variety of colouring. In the time of Gesner, the celebrated botanist of Switzerland, the village Damons and Chloes proved the sincerity of their lovers by placing in the hollow of the palm of the left-hand, a petal, or flowerleaf of the Poppy, which, on being struck by the other hand, was broken with a sharp sound, which denoted true attachment; but faithlessness, when it failed to snap. The world has closed its eyes and fallen asleep; And God looks down from His eternal throne And makes the wretched feel they're not alone. PRIDE AND THE POPPIES.—THEIR GRANDEUR AND FALL. "We little Red-caps are among the corn, Merrily dancing at early morn, We know that the farmer hates to see Our saucy red faces; but here are we! "We pay no price for our summer coats, "Who dare thrash us, we should like to know! So said little Red-cap, and all the rout So the Poppy-folk flaunted it over the field, The Blue-bottle sat on her downy stalk, The Marigold still spread her rays to the sun, And the purple Vetch climbed up to peep at the fun. The whimsical Bugloss, vain, beautiful thing, First crimson, then purple, then loveliest blue; The homely Corn-cockle cared nothing, not she, Of the proud Poppy-tribe, but she flourished and grew, The sun went down, and rose bright on the morrow, Forth went they betimes, a right merry band, He trotted along, and he cracked his joke, "We'll cut this barley to-day," quoth he, As he tied his white pony under a tree, "Next to the upland wheat, and then the oats." How the Poppies shook in their scarlet coats! Ay, shook with laughter, not fear, for they They swelled and bustled with such an air, "Ha! ha!" laughed the Red-caps, "ha! ha! what a fuss Must the poor weeds be in! how they're envying us!" But their mirth was cut short by the sturdy strokes They speedily met from the harvest-folks. And when low on the earth each stem was laid, "My dying kins-flowers, and fainting friends, Those who in scarlet or blue are dressed; "Our friends the Red-caps! how low they lie, "They scorned our neighbours :—the goodly corn "And which is the worthiest now, I pray? "The corn will be carried and garnered up "And grow and ripen and wave next year "But let us be thankful and humble too; Louisa A. Twamley. Will you drink of this fountain, and sorrow forget? |