SPRING FLOWERS. 
I see tlie wild-pinks dot tke ground, 
And Lrigkt spring-beauties all around, 
And little wind-flowers tkat abound, 
Witb. tkeir light fluttering motion. 
Those happy days have passed away; — 
But though it is not always May, 
The other months bring flowers as gay. 
And skies as blue and beaming; 
And other groves whose whispering trees 
Will tell us tales as sweet as these. 
And little openings by the breeze. 
Will let in light as gleaming. 
Then let the rich who can command 
The gold from Cahfornia’s land. 
Buy their exotics, tall and grand. 
And set in costly vases. 
Give me the little flowers that blow. 
Along the banks where streamlets flow. 
Or such as on the hill-top grow. 
Or in the shadiest places. 
To these ’tis given to impart 
The joy that makes the tear-drop start. 
And these have power to move the heart. 
E’en of the rudest peasant; 
For while he views the blooming ranks 
Of violets all along the banks. 
He looks above and gives God thanks. 
Who makes his paths so pleasant. 
They caught the Saviour’s radiant eye. 
And mingled with his counsels high. 
And since he left them for the sky. 
They still live in his story: 
Behold these careless flowers! he said. 
And let thy heart on God be stayed; 
For not like these was e’er arrayed 
The king in all his glory. 
( 6 ) 
