70 WILD FLOWEES OF 



refreshing Hewers of memory contemplated, for they 

 recall 



" Some steady love, some brief delight, 

 Some memory that had taken flight, 

 Some chime of fancy, wrong or right, 

 Or stray invention."* 



Thoughts, actions, poetry, may thus arise in the mind, 

 from what might seem to many an object of indifference, 

 but thus observation works even from sympathy with 

 common things and the every day operations of 

 nature. 



It is hardly worth while to look at the Garden yet, 

 though, if snow and frost do not entirely erininize 

 the scene with their pale habiliments, it is evident 

 that something is stirring in the ground; and here 

 and there verdant patches are appearing, which we 

 must have patience to wait a week or two ere we 

 behold their results. Plants, like thoughts and ideas, 

 require time to come up and develop themselves. 



The Mosses are now in their perfection of verdure, 

 beautifying, with their soft close robe, many a rock, 

 damp wall, thatched roof, or old prostrated trunk. 

 They bear no flowers, but their elevated urns, covered 

 with a warm hairy cap, as in the Polytriclii, veiled 

 from the rude blast as in many genera, or fringed 

 curiously about their orifices as in the majority of 

 species, all discover the same care for the protection 

 of the sporules from which the young Mosses are to 

 spring, as in the plants whose more specious aspect, 

 and more highly-developed organs, seem to have 

 stronger claims upon our notice. The Mosses are 

 Nature's coverlid, which she casts lightly over every 



* WORDSWORTH'S lines to the Daisy. 



