A WILD FLOWER WREATH. 195 



The rustic blushing heath, 

 That lurks the fern beneath, 

 Should grace our wilding wreath 



With many a pendant bell ; 

 The fair anemone 

 Might well with these agree, 

 Reft from her sheltering tree, 



Low in the copsewood dell. 



No less the floweret pale, 



The lily of the vale 



That scents the roving gale, 



Yet loves its leafy shade ; 

 And well my hand, I ween, 

 (If such my task had been,) 

 Could twine the myrtle green 



To crown the mountain maid. 



