The charms that miud delights to trace' 

 Ai-e those that glow in Natm-e's face, 

 The only beauties that withstand 

 The touch of Time's destroying hand. 



I love thee, Natiu-e, as a child 

 Loves the dear mother that beguiled 

 Its many tedious hours of pain, 

 And soothed it into health again. 



I love thee on the mountain wild. 

 The verdant vaUey, or the mild 

 Cool margin of some silvei-y stream. 

 Whose waters in the suuhght gleam. 



I love at noon the twihght shade 

 The gently waving trees have made — 

 To sit, and let my spii-it roam 

 And visit Nature in her home. 



I'U never, Natiu-e, bid farewell 

 To thee; thou in my brain shalt dwell. 

 Till mind shall have outgrown its clay. 

 And left its garment to decay. 



J. W. D. 



