- OUNTAIN gorses, ever golden ! 
Cankered not the whole year 1 
Do you teach us to be strong, 
Howsoever pricked and holden 
Like your thorny bloomy and so 
Trodden on by rain and snow, 
Up the hill-side of this life, as bleak as where you grow! 
Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms! 
Do you teach us to be glad 
When no summer can be had, 
Blooming in our inward bosoms ! 
Ye, whom God preserveth still. 
Set as lights upon a hill, 
Tokens to a wintry earth, that Beauty liveth still! 
E. B. Bi owning. 
