IVILD-FLOWER SOXXETS. 



CARDINAL FLOWER. 



VT O purer joy the glad midsummer holds, 



For those who love to seek, in secret nooks 

 Of wood or mead, or by the marge of brooks, 

 The hidden treasures she for love unfolds, 

 Than, on a morn when skies are perfect blue, 

 And clouds are far and fleecy, loitering slow, 

 To follow some wild streamlet's wayward flow, 

 And spy afar, O flower of matchless hue, 

 Thy wondrous brightness flashing through the green; 

 As if a flock of redbirds stooped to drink, 

 In airy flutter, at the brooklet's brink ; 

 Or, as a troop of Indian girls, half seen, 

 Half hid, were wading in the crystal stream, 

 While through the leaves their scarlet 'broideries 



gleam. 

 AUGUST. 



