Beautiful children of the woods and fields ! 
That bloom by mountain streamlets 'mid the heather, 
Or into clusters, ’neath the hazels, gather — 
Or where by hoary rocks you make your bields. 
And sweetly flourish on through summer weather — 
1 love ye all ! 
Beautiful flowers ! to me ye fresher seem 
From the Almighty hand that fashion’d all, 
Than those that flourish by a garden wall ; 
And I can image ye as in a dream, 
Fair modest maidens, nursed in hamlets small — 
I love ye all ! 
Beautiful gems ! that on the brow of earth 
Are fixed, as in a queenly diadem ; 
Though lowly ye, and meek without a name. 
Young hearts rejoice to see your buds come forth. 
As light e’erwhile into the world (ye) came — 
I love ye all ! 
Beautiful things ye are, where’er ye grow ! 
The wild red rose — the speedwell’s peeping eyes — 
Our own blue bell— the daisy, that doth rise 
Wherever sunbeams fall, or winds do blow ; 
And thousands more, of blessed forms and dyes — 
X love ye all 
Beautiful nurslings of the early dew ! 
Fann’d in your loveliness by every breeze. 
And shaded o’er by green and arching trees : 
I often wish that I were one of you, 
Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas — 
I love ye all 1 
Beautiful watchers 1 day and night ye wake ! 
The Evening Star grows dim and fades away. 
And morning comes and goes, and then the Day 
W’ithin the arms of Night its rest doth take ; 
But ye are watchful wheresoe’er we stray — 
I love ye all ! 
Beautiful objects of the wild bee’s love ! 
The wild bird joys your opening bloom to see, 
And in your native woods and wilds to be. 
All hearts, to Nature true, ye strangely move ; 
Ye are so passing fair— so passing free — 
I love ye all ! 
Beautiful children of the glen and dell — 
The dingle deep — the muirland stretching wide. 
And of the mossy fountain’s sedgy side 1 
Ye o’er my heart have thrown a lovesome spell ; 
And though the worldling scorning may deride — 
I love ye all ! 
Renshaw’s Pocket Keepsake for 1841 . 
