96 
WILD FLOWERS. 
Beautiful things ye are where’er ye grow! 
The wild red rose—the speedwell’s peeping eyes— 
Our own blue-bell—the daisy that doth rise 
Wherever sunbeams fall or winds do blow; 
And thousands more of blessed forms and dyes— 
I love ye all! 
Beautiful nurslings of the early dew! 
Fanned in your loveliness by every breeze, 
And shaded o’er by green and arching trees: 
I often wish that I were one of you, 
Dwelling afar upon the grassy leas— 
I love ye all! 
Beautiful watchers! day and night ye wake! 
The evening star grows dim and fades away, 
And morning comes and goes, and then the day 
Within the arms of night its rest doth take; 
But ye are watchful wheresoe’er we stray— 
I love ye all! 
Beautiful objects of the wild bee’s love ! 
The wild bird joys your opening bloom to see, 
And in your native woods and wilds to be. 
