THE ANEMONE 
15 ^ 
¥/here the woodmouse makes his home in earth, 
Where gnat and butterfly have their birth, 
Where leaves are dancing over each flower, 
Fanning it well in the noontide hour. 
And the breath of the wind is murmuring low. 
As branches are bending to and fro. 
Sweet are the memories that ye bring 
Of the pleasant leafy woods of spring; 
Of the wild bee so gladly humming. 
Joyous that earth’s young flowers are coming;. 
Of the nightingale and merry thrush, 
Cheerfully singing from every bush ; 
And. the cuckoo’s note, when the air is still. 
Heard far away on the distant hill. 
Y'e have lovely companions too, 
The primrose and the violet blue ; 
And the celandine with starry rays. 
And the bluebell, which the poets praise; 
And the stitchwort, with its cheek of pearl. 
And the woodruff, with its leafy w^horl, 
And sanide nodding before the breeze, 
Beneath the shadow of pleasant trees. 
Pure are the sights and sounds of the wild 
Ye can bring to the heart of nature’s child; 
Plain and beautiful is the story 
That ye tell of your Maker’s glory; 
Useful the lesson that ye bear. 
That fragile is all, however fair. 
While ye teach that Time is on his wing, 
As ye open the blossoms of every spring. 
A. Pi. 
