WILD FLOWERS. 191 



The garden flowers are reared for few, 

 And to those few belong alone ; 



But flowers that spring by vale or stream, 

 Each one may claim them for his own. 



The rich parterre is walled around, 



But meadow lands stretch far and wide 

 And we may gather lovely flowers 



For miles along the river side ; 

 And far amidst the landscape wild, 



Wander the scenes of beauty o'er, 

 Now lingering in the violet glen, 



Now roaming on the thymy moor. 



Or pause wfcere foam-like meadow queen 



Scatters her blossoms on the lake, 

 Or where the Orchis blooms among 



The lady-fern or feathery brake ; 

 Or sit beside the winding path 



Bordered by ripening wheat or oat, 

 When on the gentle summer air 



The poppy's crimson banners float. 



