THE BLUE-BELL. 



" I would not be a floweret hung 



On higli in mountain snows ; 

 Nor o'er a castle wall be flung 

 All stately though it rose : 

 I'd breathe no sighs 

 For cloudless skies. 



Nor perfumed Eastern gale, . 

 So I might be 

 A Blue-bell free, 



In some low verdant vale. 



" For there the swains and maidens meet. 



With Summer sport and song. 

 And Fairies lead with unseen feet 

 Their moonlight dance along : 

 Each tiny lip 

 Would gladly sip 



The dew my cup enshrined. 

 And next morn's Bee 

 Would drink from me 



The sweets they left behind. 



" The Laurel hath a loftier name, 

 The Rose a brighter hue, 



