THE BLUE BELL. 75 



But Heaven and I'd be clad the same 

 In fair and fadeless blue : 

 No blood-stain'd chief 

 Ere plucks this leaf, 



To make his wreath more gay ! 

 Though still its flower 

 Decks village bower. 



And twines the shafts of May." 



Sweet Florence ! may thy gentle breast 



As artless pleasures swell, 

 As those thou deemest still to rest 

 In thy beloved Blue-bell ! 

 And may'st thou feel, 

 Though time shall steal 



Thy beauty's freshest hue, 

 A bhss still shed 

 Around thy head, — 



fuchani^'d like Heaw^u^ own blue ! 



R. T 



