78 
WILD FLOWERS. 
But Thou wouldst teach him how to find 
A shelter under every wind, 
A hope for times that are unkind 
And every season. 
Gratitude to Nature. 
I kiss your trunks, ye ancient trees, 
That often o’er my head 
The blossoms of your flowery spring 
In fragrant showers have shed. 
Thou, too, of changeful mood, 
I thank thee, sounding stream, 
That blent thine echo with my thought, 
Or woke my musing dream. 
I kneel upon the verdant turf, 
For sure my thanks are due 
To moss-cup and to clover-leaf, 
That gave me draughts of dew. 
