

MOUNTAIN LAUREL. 

 (KALMIA.) 



WHEN, pale and pure, against the sombre g 

 Of spreading hemlocks and close-crowding pines, 

 In northern woods thy moonlight beauty shines, 

 Thou seem'st, O stately Kalmia, like a queen 

 Alien and sad, exiled but not discrowned ; 

 A wanderer from distant tropic lands, 

 But regal still, and bearing in thy hands 

 Caskets of pearl and rose, securely bound. 

 Fair fugitive, I would not be too bold, 

 Nor seek to probe thy hidden history ; 

 I pluck thy blossoms, not thy mystery ; 

 Yet I were rich indeed, with wealth untold, 

 If in some trusting hour thou wouldst unfold 

 The secrets that those cunning caskets hold. 

 JUNE. 



