THE OBSERVER. 
The Lichens. 
BY H. A. GREEN, CHESTER, S. C. 
I N olden days when earth was young, 
Glad life brought forth her children bright; 
Among the first-born there was one 
Of obscure birth and doubtful might. 
Dim was the light this child did see, 
For earth was covered o’er with cloud; 
And hard her breast on which to lie, 
For land was but with rock endowed. 
Though but a plant, this humble child, 
Had given to it weary task, 
To help prepare the earth, so wild, 
For higher life to come at last. 
Close clinging to the barren rock 
It slowly grew — this was its toil — 
Its life sustained by air and rock, 
Then, dying, mouldered into soil. 
Unconscious thus its life it spent, 
The Master’s high behest to do; 
To enrich the earth its strength it lent, 
And served its generation too. 
Its task not done, its children live, 
We see them oft most intimate 
• With earth, and rock, and tree, that give 
Them place to grow and propagate. 
Oh; lowly plant, how oft thou’rt spurned, 
Or passed unseen by common eye 
As though ot thee no good was learned, 
Thine only lot to live and die ! 
But closer look with care and thought, 
Strange are thy forms and wondrous fair; 
With grace enchanting they are wrought, 
Their coloring rich, their shading rare. 
Be thou our pattern, humble one; 
May we as patient live each day; 
Our duty e’er as bravely done, 
Our will, the Master to obey. 
T 33 
