WHERE GROW THE FLOWERS? 
WHERE proud mansion rears its head, 
Where the rich domain is spread ; 
’Mid trees that only nobles own, 
Since long ancestral ages grown ; 
Planted by a skilful hand, 
Rare, and gay, and fragrant band, 
Beauties which strange lands well know,— 
There the gorgeous flowers grow ! 
By the humble peasant’s door, 
Precious portion of his store ; 
Fragrant and luxuriant all, 
Climbing, clustering o’er the wall, 
Fringing round the oval border, 
Full of beauty, lacking order ; 
’*Mid simplicity they smile, 
Thought of poverty beguile, 
And with sweetest freshness blow,— 
There the simple flowers grow! 
Scattered o’er the mountain side, . 
Scarce beyond the roaring tide, 
Like a firmament revealed 
Of daisies which the night concealed, 
Roving, twining, where they list, 
Circles none can e’er untwist, 
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