Well has our country done in making thee An emblem of her nationality; Thy beauteous form, sweet breath and sunset sheen, Make thee of all earth's loveliest flowers the Queen! Who says that Scotland's thistle is not fair? Of sturdy growth and free determined air, Type of a race, in mental vigour strong, Of perseverance and endurance long. The shamrock with its triple verdant smile, Fit emblem of our emerald sister isle! Whose people's pleasant humour laughs down care, As they good fellowship delight to share. May thistle, shamrock, rose, for aye intwine In union and brotherhood sublime; And every Briton heavenward waft the prayer, That each the other's weal or woe still share. Narcissus, sacred to proud Juno once, Was afterwards the flower of cultured France, Then the dynastic emblem of Savoy, Now, the red Indian's magic herb and joy. The violets of classic Athens too, Of modest bearing and enchanting hue, In the accomplishment of time became, Napoleon's violets of world-wide fame. Nabrassor's Queen, tired of the level plains Which her adopted Babylonia claims, Sighed for her Midian gardens and sweet flowers, To cheer her in her few retiring hours. She sighed not long or vainly, for her lord Called art to rival nature; at his word Bewitching gardens with rare flowers were Formed and suspended in mid-air for her. Let all be grateful to these flower friends, Who to life's pleasure such rich fragrance lends, And strive, like them through perfumed actions clear, Others to gladden, elevate and cheer. Then will they not have toiled and smiled in vain, For man a fuller, freer life to gain, In bright incentives to enjoyments sure, Through sympathetic nature's teachings pure. * * * * *