Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth. Happy who walks with him! whom what he finds Or what he views of beautiful or grand In nature, from the broad majestic oak To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, Prompts with remembrance of a present God.-COWPER. WILD FLOWERS. BEAUTIFUL children of the woods and fields! # Beautiful flowers! to me ye fresher seem Fair, modest maidens, nursed in hamlets small- Beautiful gems! that on the brow of earth Though lowly ye, and most without a name, Young hearts rejoice to see your buds come forth, As light erewhile into the world came I love ᎩᎾ all! Beautiful things ye are, where'er ye grow! The wild red rose-the speedwell's peeping eyes: Our own blue-bell-the daisy, that doth rise Wherever sunbeams fall or winds do blow; And thousands more, of blessed forms and dyesI love ye all! Beautiful nurslings of the early dew! Fann'd in your loveliness by every breeze, Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas f Beautiful watchers! day and night ye wake! Beautiful children of the glen and dell The dingle deep-the moorland stretching wide, And of the mossy fountain's sedgy side! Ye o'er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell; And though the worldling, scorning, may derideI love ye all! NICOLL. LET US GO TO THE WOODS. LET us go to the woods-'tis a bright sunny day: From the vine, from the shrub, we will gather them all. Now here's the Clematis, all graceful and fair; Here's the full-blown Azalea, perfuming the air, Here's the Cardinal-flower, that a princess might wear. And the wild mountain Phlox, pink and purple and blue, And Star-flowers both of white and of golden hue. And here's a bright blossom, a gay one indeed, Our mountain maids name it the Butterfly-weed; So gorgeous its colours, one scarcely can tell If the flower or the insect in beauty excel. Here's the low dwarf Acacia, that droops as it Here's the Pigeon-pea, fit for a fairy's bowers, Here is Privet, no prettier shrub have we met; But stay-we are now on the high hill's brow! 'Tis your own little cottage, the home that you love: Let us go by the fields where the Chinkapins are, And through the long lane where the Chestnuts hang fair, They are scarcely yet ripe, but their tender green Looks lovely the dark clustering foliage between : And we'll stop at the nest that we found in the wood, And see if the blackbird hath flown with her brood: And we'll list to the mocking-bird, wondering thereat, Till he pauses, as if to ask, "Who can do that?" If we read Nature's book with a serious eye, ANONYMOUS. |