33 ROOM—JduMILITY. 
y 
I'M I not 
In truth a favoured plant! 
On me such bounty summer pours, 
That I ajn covered o’er with flowers; 
And when the frost is in the sky, 
My branches are so fresh and gay 
That you might look at me and say, 
This plant can never die. 
The butterfly, all green and gold, 
To me hath often flown, 
Here in my blossoms to behold 1 
Wings lovely as his own. 
When grass is chill with rain or 
dew, 
Beneath my shade, the mother- 
ewe 
Ides with her infant-lamb ; T see 
The love they to each other 
make, 
And the sweet joy which they 
partake 
It is a joy to me. 
IVorthwo-, " 
