the moss. 
Ah ! lovely flower what care, what power, 
In thy fair structure are displayed 
By him who reared thee to this hour, 
Within the forest’s lonely shade! 
Thy tender stalk, and fibres fine. 
Here find a shelter from the storm; 
Perhaps no human eyes but mine 
Ere gazed upon thy lovely form. 
The dew-drop glistens on thy leaf. 
As if thou seem’st to shed a tear ; 
As if thou knew’st my tale of grief— 
Felt all my sufferings severe. 
But, ah ! thou know’st not my distress, 
In danger here from beasts of prey, 
And robbed of all I did possess, 
By men more fierce by far than they. 
Nor canst thou ease my burdened sigh 
Nor cool the fever at my heart, 
Though to the zephyrs passing by 
Thou dost thy balmy sweets impart. 
