Beauty Flower: Black And Pink Flower Wallpaper

Black And Pink Flower Wallpaper

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The quantity and showy combination of the flowers, especially the heated atmosphere and commonplace gabble of the scene, and often the want of correspondence between the person who so consciously holds the bouquet in her gloved hand and the sweet nature it represents, rob the flowers of their legitimate claim.

Indeed, like all truly beautiful things, they demand the appropriate as a sphere. The east wind, in Boston, on the last national holiday, and the grave faces of the children, to say nothing of the idea that appro-bativeness and acquisitiveness were the organs mainly called in play in their little overworked brains, utterly dispelled all genuine romance and grateful illusion from the floral procession. Something analogous in character, atmosphere, and occasion, is needed to render the ministry of flowers atfecting and complete.

We instinctively identify our acquaintances with flowers. The meek and dependent are as Lilies of the Valley, and, like them, need the broad and verdant shield of affectionate nurture; sycophants are parasites; exuberant and glowing beauty and feeling are more like the Damask Rose than any thing in nature; the irritable annoy us like Nettles; the proud emulate the Crown Imperial; the graceful are lithe as Vine-sprays; the loving wind round our hearts like tendrils; and the cheerful brighten the dim background of life like the scarlet blossoms of the Woodbine. Not a flower in the cornucopia of the floral goddess but hath its similitude and its votary. The boy's first miracle is to press the seed-vessels of the Balsamine till it snaps at his touch; or to shout, as he runs from bed to the garden, at the sight of the rich chalice of the Morning-glory, planted by his own little hand, that has opened while he slept. The Clover's pink globe, and the deep crimson bloom of the Sumac; the exquisite scent of the Locust, and the auspicious blooming of the Lilac; the hood-like purple of the Foxglove, and the dainty tint of the Sweet Pea, stir, whenever they re-appear, those dormant memories of early and unalloyed consciousness, which:

"Neither man nor boy,

Nor all that is at enmity with joy,

Can utterly abolish or destroy".

Thus, from the first, perverted mortal! thou wert indebted to flowers. As a wayward urchin, loitering on the way to school, thou whistled shrilly against the edge of a Grass-blade, held a Butter-cup to the chin of thy little comrade, or puffed away the feathery seed-blossom of the Dandelion to ascertain if thy secret wish would be consummated; - as a youth, with quivering pulses and flushed brow, thou wert not ashamed to seek the choicest flowers as interpreters of thy feelings towards one before whom thy words were tremulous, yet fond; - and in thy prime, when positive knowledge and accurate deduction constituted thy felicity, it was, or might have been, to thee a rational pastime to study the botanical relations, laws, and habits of these poetic effusions of the earth, causing them to gratify thee through analysis, as they once did through sentiment.

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