TO THE WILD COLUMBINE. 
And still tlie sea, its hollow roar 
Is sending from the far-off shore. 
Those httle flowers nod on the hill, 
And children climb to pick them still. 
And there the same broad oak will spread 
Its giant arms and cooling shade. 
ISTor fear I that old fence will fail, 
"With stony base and top of rail; 
I’ll monnt it, and a smgle bonnd 
Will land me on the flowery gronnd. 
Anemone, and Bnttercnj), 
Attract me not, for farther np. 
Among the stones and creeping pines, 
I see the scarlet CoLiJMBrN'ES. 
My life has been a changing dream 
Of what things are, and what they seem; 
Bnt never shone there brighter hours. 
Than when I play’d with those sweet flowers. 
And all its changes soon will pass, 
Like moving shadows o’er the grass. 
Yet might its snn shine, bright as then, 
I would not live it o’er again, 
For brighter blossoms in the sky. 
Bloom fresh and fair, and never die. 
