NM, Bodied hdd ape 
For the Dumfriesshire and Galloway Natural History and 
Antiquarian Society, November, 1885. 
** A primrose by the river’s brim, 
Or at the cottage door, 
A yellow primrose was to him, 
And it was nothing more.” 
Wordsworth. 
The book of Nature open lies, 
Where all may read, who care 
To search her mysteries, and learn 
The symbols graven there. 
But deeper truths can be revealed, 
With Wisdom as a guide, 
To lead by upland brake and glen, 
Or tranquil river side. 
An earnest few together tried 
To form a student band, 
To ponder Nature’s forms that lie 
Profuse on every hand. 
To lure awhile from sordid toil, 
To mark, and learn, and know 
The perfect fitness, perfect ends, 
God’s lowliest works can show : 
To search by grove and secret spring 
Each haunt of bird and flower, 
While bounding pulses glad proclaim 
That knowledge giveth power : 
The sequence of the floral year, 
Unerring Nature’s plan, 
The treasure stored in mine and case, 
God’s bounteous gifts to man: 
To scan the stars that nightly rise 
With solemn stately march, 
To name the glittering orbs that glow 
On Heaven’s midnight arch. 
Oft old historic ground was trod, 
And battlemented wall, 
Now hoary ruin, echoing once 
The warrior’s martial call. 
“To him who in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms 
She speaks a various language.” 
Bryant. 
From every year that glided on 
Were snatched a few brief days, 
To dedicate to noble ends, 
And walk in Wisdom’s ways. 
The bygone summer scarcely sped, 
A boundless wealth has giv’n 
Of bloom and blossom, golden days, 
Spanned by a smiling heaven. 
Old haunts were visited once more, 
Where Nith’s rock-circled wave 
Stole softly through o’ershadowing 
woods, 
Or paused in mimic cave. 
Once more were seen the girdling 
walls, 
Where gifts from every clime 
Are brought, the added treasures 
mark ; 
Its calendar of time. 
Where Urr its sluggish waters rolls, 
To meet the western sea, 
A noble house its portals op’ed 
In hospitality. 
Its woods and gardens tended with 
A watchful, guardian care, 
That wins the alien stems to thrive 
In kindly Scottish air. 
The winter days are darkening now, 
And storms for sunshine give, 
But records of these brighter hours 
In storied annals live. 
AaGnes MovunsEy. 
ne 
® 
