WAYSIDE TREES. 183 



Like-minded birds so I am not alone 



Linger as lovingly around the spot, 

 Whose subtle charm such mighty spell has thrown, 



That wander where I will, 'tis ne'er forgot ; 

 Here, child and bird learned first to love the sky, 

 The tree, the spring, the grass whereon I lie. 



When timid Spring warms with her smile the way, 

 With all-impatient steps I hasten here ; 



No bloom so bright in all the bowers of May, 

 As the pale violets that cluster near : 



Bright grow the skies, nor troubling shadows fall ; 



Childhood returns, when joy encompassed all. 



WHO that has ever walked in the country 

 has not blessed the farmer who planted, or early 

 settler who spared, the wayside trees ? The aver- 

 age country road, especially in the poorer farm- 

 ing districts, is something deplorable. Only too 

 often, even when shady and otherwise attractive, 

 there lies only the choice of wallowing through 

 sand, stumbling over rocks, or tripping over briers 

 that would shame the Gordian knot for close en- 

 tanglement. 



It is unreasonable to expect well-worn paths, 

 far from the town's limits, unless Nature has pro- 

 vided them : but something a little better than 

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