COL UMBINE. 



Skirting the rocks at the forest edge 

 With a running flame from ledge to ledge, 

 Or swaying deeper in shadowy glooms, 

 A smoldering fire in her dusky blooms ; 

 Bronzed and molded by wind and sun, 

 Maddening, gladdening every one 

 With a gypsy beauty full and fine, 



A health to the crimson columbine ! 



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