| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | I. Flowers Love’s Truest Language | | By Park Benjamin (1809–1864) |
| | | FLOWERS are Love’s truest language; they betray, | |
| Like the divining-rods of Magi old, | |
| Where precious wealth lies buried, not of gold, | |
| But love,—strong love, that never can decay! | |
| I send thee flowers, O dearest! and I deem | 5 |
| That from their petals thou wilt hear sweet words, | |
| Whose music, clearer than the voice of birds, | |
| When breathed to thee alone, perchance, may seem | |
| All eloquent of feelings unexpressed. | |
| O, wreathe them in those tresses of dark hair! | 10 |
| Let them repose upon thy forehead fair, | |
| And on thy bosom’s yielding snow be pressed! | |
| Thus shall thy fondness for my flowers reveal | |
| The love that maiden coyness would conceal! | | | | |
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