PURPLE SANDWORT. 37 



How beautiful ! how beautiful ! the landscape 

 spreading wide, 



The glorious dome of Heaven on high ; beneath, 

 the azure tide. 



Whose waves roll on to other realms, where stran- 

 ger trees are seen. 



And daisy'd meads, with cowslips dight, or vales 

 of living green. 



But not less beautiful than these, the sights and 



sounds of spring ; 

 The coming back of summer birds, the joyous 



songs they sing. 

 The flowers beloved, from year to year, that haunt 



the self-same spot. 

 The breezy common, wild wood glade, the lonely 



glen or grot. 



Each have their place, and those which bloom, in 



silent glade or glen. 

 Seek not to deck the cottage roof, nor yet the 



paths of men ; 



