26 
WILD FLOWERS. 
Thou comest from winter’s cold caress, 
To rejoice in the young Spring’s loveliness: 
But thou seest the sky when the cloud appears, 
And the blue eye of heaven is dim with tears; 
And, cold and clear, o’er thy dewy bed 
The starbeam lustre of night is shed; 
And no bright-tinting flashes are seen. 
Though mom be cloudless and eve serene. 
Yet, flower of Modesty, born alone— 4 
When the leaves of Autumn still lie strown, 
Art thou not dearer in Spring’s first prime, 
Than the fairest rose of the Summer time? 
Thus in her pathway of joy and light, 
Away from the idle gazer’s sight, 
’T is meet that Beauty should pass her hour, 
Lonely and modest like thee, sweet flower! 
