168 OUR NATIVE SONGSTEES. 



among the grass, or the tiny vases of the scarlet 

 cup-moss growing there like masses of coral. 

 Tlie silence that reigns on the common is far 

 more dreary than tliat of the woods ; for wlien it 

 is inten-upted by the wjnds, these bring not tlie 

 wild and varied melodies which come winding 

 along the vistas of the woodlands, as tliroiigh the 

 aisles of a cathedral, nor is the robin so often on 

 the down to chant its winter song. And as the 

 wind murmurs in low tones, or comes in sullen 

 gusts, and as we cast the eye over the wide un- 

 sheltered waste, we ft-el that winter has here done 

 its worst. 



Vet h(»w gladsome in spring-time is all that 

 wide connnon, when a blue sky is hanging over 

 it, and sunshine is gliding its innumerable blades 

 of grass. Now the gorsc has its thousands of 

 flowers of brightest gold, and daisies cluster in 

 multitudes, and tlie little milkwort raises its 

 blossoms of blue or richest pink above the lowly 

 sward; and the bright germander speedwell witli 

 its eye of blue, and the celandine with its star of 

 gold, are but the heralds of the purple heaths, 

 and the blue harebells, and the sweet wild thyme, 

 and the bright golden broom flowers which, in 



