MEADOW RUE. 



BELOW the slopes of tender green, 



Starred thick with pale forget-me-nots, 

 Below the hedge-row s milk-white bloom, 

 Where bees hum deep in faint perfume, 

 The brook winds in and out between 

 Its grassy knolls and alder-knots ; 

 There dewy stillness cools the aching brow, 



There restful shade shuts out the random day; 

 Sweet refuge from the virginal overflow, 

 The blossomed grace of May ! 



Tis there a modest floweret grows, 



Whose lightest touch renews the place ; 

 With drooping leaves, but half unrolled, 

 And tasselled fringe of tawny gold, 

 O er all the shady bank she throws 

 A wilder charm, a fresher grace; 



