104 MAY. 



And the forest's verdant pall 



Shrouds the missel in her hall ; 



In the hawthorn's pleasant boughs. 



Where a thousand blithe birds house. 



When the meadows are brimful 



Of all flowers that children pull, — 



Saxifrages, cardamines, 



Kingcup which in deep gold shines ; 



Dandelion with globe of down, 



The school-boy's clock in every town, 



Which the truant puffs amain 



To conjure lost hours back again. 



Then, 'tis then I love to meet 



Thy true son's way-faring feet, 



As 1 have, ere now, descried 



By the thunderous falls of Clyde ; 



Or where bright Loch Katrine fills 



Such a space, between such hills, 



As no lake beside it may, 



Since Eden's waters passed away. 



VV. II. 



Cottage gardens are now perfect paradises; 

 and, after gazing on their sunny quietude, their 

 lilachs, peonies, wall-flowers, tulips, anemonies 

 and corcoruses with their yellow tufts of flow- 

 ers, now becoming as common at the doors of 

 cottages as the rosemary and rue once were — 

 one cannot help regretting that more of our 

 labouring classes do not enjoy the freshness of 

 earth, and the pure breeze of heaven, in these 

 little rural retreats, instead of being buried in 

 close and sombre alleys. A man who can, in 



