CELANDINE, 81 



Comfort have thou of thy merit, 

 Kindly, unassuming spirit ! 

 Careless of thy neighbourhood, 

 Thou dost show thy pleasant face 

 On the moor, and in the wood, 

 In the lane there 's not a place, 

 Howsoever mean it be, 

 But 'tis good enough for thee. 



Ill befal the yellow flowers, 

 Children of the flaring hours ! 

 Buttercups, that will be seen, 

 Whether we will see or no ; 

 Others, too, of lofty mien ; 

 They have done as worldlings do, 

 Taken praise that should be thine, 

 Little, humble Celandine T 



Prophet of delight and mirth, 

 Scorned and slighted upon earth ; 

 Herald of a mighty band, 

 Of a joyous train ensuing, 

 Singing at my heart's command, 

 In the lanes my thoughts pursuing, 

 I will sing, as doth behove, 

 Hymns in praise of what I love." 



But to quote all this poet's praises of the Celandine is 

 more than can be allowed to us. The reader is too well 

 acquainted with his writings to be ignorant of his love for 

 this little flower, or to refuse him the sympathy he re- 

 quires : 



" Let, with bold advent'rous skill, 



Others thrid the polar sea ; 



Build a pyramid who will ; 



Praise it is enough for me, 



If there be but three or four 



Who will love my little flower." 



Mrs. Charlotte Smith more than once alludes to the 



G 



