38 WILD FLOWERS. 
And watch intently Nature’s gentle doings, 
They will he found softer than ring-dove’s cooings. 
How silent comes the water round that bend; 
Not the minutest whisper does it send 
To the o’erhanging sallows: blades of grass 
Slowly across the chequered shadows pass. 
Why you might read two sonnets, ere they reach 
To where the hurrying freshnesses aye preach 
A natural sermon o’er their pebbly beds; 
Where swarms of minnows show their little heads. 
Staying their wavy bodies ’gainst the streams, 
To taste the luxury of sunny beams 
Tempered with coolness. How they ever wrestle 
With their own sweet delight, and ever nestle 
Their silver bellies on the pebbly sand! 
If you but scantily hold out the hand, 
That very instant not one will remain; 
But turn your eye, and they are there again. 
The ripples seem right glad to reach those cresses, 
And cool themselves among the emerald tresses; 
The while they cool themselves, they freshness 
give, 
And moisture, that the bowery green may live: 
