THE HARE-BELL. 103 



THE HARE-BELL; 



A DEDICATION FOR AN ANNUAL, WITH 

 THAT TITLE. 



YE have seen me oft, mid the summer day, 

 In my woodland home, with the breeze at play ; 

 Catching the dews as they sparkling fell, 

 And folding them close in each floral bell ; 

 And teaching my buds, with a joyous ray, 

 To lift their blue eyes to the King of Day. 



But now, when the last leaf of Autumn is shed, 

 Ye thought, no doubt, I was sere and dead : 

 No, no ! I have baffled the Spoiler s sting, 

 Affection s token to you to bring. 

 I have dared the wrath of the frosty sky, 

 To gather you blossoms that cannot die. 



Will ye welcome me in from my toil and care, 

 For the blessings I breathe, and the sweets I 



bear? 



If ye give me shelter this wintry hour, 

 If ye make me a guest at the hearth and bower, 

 You will never regret, I am fain to say, 

 The Hare-Bell s visit, this Christmas-day. 



