( 
THE SWEET-BRIER. 
I’m but a simple way-side brier, 
Yet, by tbe dusty ways, 
Tbe weary traveller’s grateful smile 
Gives me my meed of praise. 
The sbouting scbool-boy, bounding on. 
Lured by my fragrance, lingers, 
Nor frowns, when, gathering of my sweets, 
I prick bis venturous fingers. 
I smile on many a merry group. 
Along the road that passes. 
And rival in tbeir morning bloom. 
The bappy rosy lasses. 
My scarlet fruit, when flowers are gone, 
Tbe bttle maiden strings. 
And o’er ber snowy bosom pure, 
Tbe ruby necklace flings. 
Where fair bands round tbe cottage door 
Have trained my glossy leaves, 
My long and slender boughs I stretch 
To meet tbe bending eaves. 
( 19 ) 
