FLORA AND THALIA. 43 



THE BLUE, OR HAREBELL. 



In Spring's green lap there blooms a flower, 



Whose cup imbibes each vernal shower, 



That sips fresh Nature's balmy dew, 



Clad in her sweetest, purest blue ; 



Yet shuns the ruddy eye of morning, 



The shaggy wood's brown shade adorning. 



Simplest floweret ! Child of May ! 



Though hid from the broad eye of day, 



Doom'd in the shade thy sweets to shed, 



Unnoticed droop thy languid head ; 



Still Nature's darling thou'lt remain; 



She feeds thee with her softest rain ; 



Fills each sweet bud with honied tears. 



With genial gales thy bosom cheers. 



Oh ! then, unfold thy simple charms 



In yon deep thicket's sheltering arms. 



Far from the fierce and sultry glare. 



No heedless hand shall harm thee there ; 



Still, then, avoid the gaudy scene, 



The flaunting sun, th' embroidered green. 



And bloom and fade with chaste reserve, unseen. 



CAROLINE SXMONDS. 



