Volume 146 — FLORAL DANGERS.

Dear, I do not send you flowers, Though I notice day by day That, 'neath Spring's recurring powers, All the shops are perfect bowers With the floral wealth of May; I could get you quite a heap, Fresh and reasonably cheap. Here is many a fragrant rose Mingling with the scented pea, Hyacinths whose odour flows Fondly to the grateful nose, These, and many more, there be; You should have them like a shot, But I think you'd bettor not. Science 'tis that bids me pause; 'Tis by her the tale is told That, by Nature's mystic laws, Blossoms are a frequent cause Of a lady catching cold; Their aroma, so she says, Irritates the passages. Whether this is quite exact May be food for questioning; But, as it's a painful fact That your membrane is attacked Thus about the prime of Spring, I, who hold your welfare dear, May not leave it with a sneer. Wherefore, much though I aspire You, and you alone, to please, I refrain from this desire, For 'twould set my heart on fire If I made my lady wheeze; I should well-nigh perish if Aught from me should rouse a sniff.