“When daisies pied and violets blue,
  And lady’s smocks all silver white,
  And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
  Do paint the meadows with delight,
  The cuckoo then on every tree
  Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
                        Cuckoo.”

And one of the finest of our orchids is “Our Lady’s slipper.”  The ribbon grass is “Our Lady’s garters,” and the dodder supplies her “laces.”  In the same way many flowers have been associated with the Virgin herself.  Thus, there is “Our Lady’s tresses,” and a popular name for the maiden-hair fern and quaking-grass is “Virgin’s hair.”  The lilies of the valley are her tears, and a German nickname for the lungwort is “Our Lady’s milk-wort.”  The Anthlyllis vulneraria is “Our Lady’s fingers,” and the kidney-wort has been designated “lady’s navel.”  Certain orchids, from the peculiar form of their hand-shaped roots, have been popularly termed “Our Lady’s hands,” a name given in France to the dead-nettle.

Of the many other plants dedicated to the Virgin may be mentioned the snowdrop, popularly known as the “fair maid of February,” opening its floweret at the time of Candlemas.  According to an old monkish tradition it blooms at this time, in memory of the Virgin having taken the child Jesus to the temple, and there presented her offering.  A further reason for the snowdrop’s association with the Virgin originated in the custom of removing her image from the altar on the day of the Purification, and strewing over the vacant place with these emblems of purity.  The bleeding nun (Cyclamen europoeum) was consecrated to the Virgin, and in France the spearmint is termed “Our Lady’s mint.”  In Germany the costmary (Costaminta vulgaris) is “Our Lady’s balsam,” the white-flowered wormwood the “smock of our Lady,” and in olden days the iris or fleur-de-lis was held peculiarly sacred.

The little pink is “lady’s cushion,” and the campanula is her looking-glass.  Then there is “Our Lady’s comb,” with its long, fragile seed-vessels resembling the teeth of a comb, while the cowslip is “Our Lady’s bunch of keys.”  In France, the digitalis supplies her with gloves, and in days gone by the Convallaria polygonatum was the “Lady’s seal.”  According to some old writers, the black briony went by this name, and Hare gives this explanation:—­“‘Our Lady’s seal’ (Sigillum marioe) is among the names of the black briony, owing to the great efficacy of its roots when spread in a plaster and applied as it were to heal up a scar or bruise.”  Formerly a species of primula was known as “lady’s candlestick,” and a Wiltshire nickname for the common convolvulus is “lady’s nightcap,” Canterbury bells in some places supplying this need.  The harebell is “lady’s thimble,” and the plant which affords her a mantle is the Alchemilla vulgaris, with its grey-green leaf covered with a soft silky hair.  This is the Maria Stakker of Iceland, which when placed under the pillow produces sleep.