WILD FLOWERS. 



BT ANNE PRATT. 



Why is it that I love the flowers 



That grow in woods, and lanes, and fields, 

 Better than all the glowing ones 



The richly cultured garden yields ? 

 Why is it that the daisy has 



A charm for me, all flowers above ; 

 Or why the hawthorn's fragrant breath, 



More than the myrtle's do I love ? 



The cuckoo-flower and hyacinth, 



These blossoms of each woodland wild, 

 The primrose and anemone, 



O, I have prized them from a child ! 

 And still the odours lhat arise 



From clusters of the wild woodbine, 

 Are sweeter, lovelier to me, 



Than scent of Eastern jessamine. 



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