28 WILD FLOWERS. 
An Extract. 
I know, for thou hast told me, 
Thy maiden love of flowers; 
Ah, those that deck thy gardens, 
Are pale compared with ours. 
When our wide woods and mighty lawns 
Bloom to the April skies, 
The Earth hath no more glorious sight 
To show to human eyes. 
Come, thou hast not forgotten 
Thy pledge and promise quite, 
With many blushes murmured 
Beneath the evening light, 
Come, the young violets crowd my door, I 
Thy earliest look to win; 
And at my silent window sill 
The jessamine peeps in. 
All day the red-bird warbles > 
Upon the mulberry near, 
And the night-sparrow thrills his song, 
All night with none to hear. 
