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WALE-FLOWEI!. 
No, nor that nun-like lily, which but blows 
Beneath the valley’s cool and shady screen ; 
Nor yet the sun-flower, that with warrior 
mien, 
Still eyes the orb of glory where it glows ;— 
But thou, neglected wall-Jlower, to my breast 
And muse art dearest, wildest, sweetest 
flower, 
To whom alone the privilege is given 
Proudly to root thyself above the rest 
As genius does, and, from thy rocky tower, 
Send fragrance to the purest breath of 
heaven. 
The same .— baiiton. 
To me thy site disconsolate. 
On turret, wall, or tower, 
Makes thee appear misfortune’s mate, 
And desolation’s dower. 
Thou ask’st no kindly cultured soil 
Thy native bed to be; 
Thou need’st not man’s officious toil 
To plant or water thee. 
Sown by the winds thou meekly rear’st, 
On ruin’s crumbling crest, 
