THE BEAMBLE. 



Thy fruit full well the school-boy knows, 



Wild bramble of the brake ; 

 So put thou forth thy small white rose, 



I love it for his sake. 

 Though woodbines flaunt and roses blow 



O'er all the fragrant bowers. 

 Thou need'st not be ashamed to show 



Thy satin-threaded flowers. 

 For thou, wild bramble, back dost bring, 



In all their beauteous power. 

 The fresh green days of life's fair spring, 



The boyhood's blossomy hom\ 



Elliott. 



john edwaed taylor, peimee, 

 littlB queen sieeet, Lincoln's inn fields. 



