WILD FLOWERS. 183 



those wide meadows, what an affluence of vege- 

 tation ! How that herd of cattle, in color, and 

 form, and grouping, worthy the pencil of Cuyp 

 or Ruysdael, graces the plenty of that field of 

 most lustrous gold ; and all around, the grass 

 growing for the scythe, almost overtops the 

 hedges with its abundance. As we track the 

 narrow footpath, we cannot avoid a lively ad- 

 miration of the rich mosaic of colors that are 

 woven all through them the yellow rattle 

 the crimson stems and heads of the burnet, that 

 plant of beautiful leaves the golden trifolium 

 the light quakegrass the azure milkwort 

 and clover scenting all the air. And lo ! there 

 are the mowers i\i work ! there are the hay- 

 makers ! Green swathes of mown grass hay- 

 cocks and wagons ready to bear them away 

 it is summer, indeed !" We must have another 

 verse of poetry another quaff from the Pierian 

 springs what shall it be ? Oh ! let us quote 

 from a poet whom we have hitherto too much 

 neglected : 



" Hark ! where the sweeping scythe now rips along; 

 Each sturdy mower emulous and strong, 



