WILD FLOWEES. 
191 
The garden flowers are reared for few, 
And to those few belong alone : 
But flowers that spring by vale or stream, 
Each one may claim them for his own. 
The rich parterre is walled around, 
But meadow lands stretch far and wide, 
And we may gather lovely flowers 
For miles along the river side ; 
And far amidst the landscape wild, 
Wander the scenes of beauty o’er, 
Now lingering in the violet glen, 
Now roaming on the thymy moor. 
Or pause where foam-like meadow queen, 
Scatters her blossoms on the lake 
Or where the Orchis blooms among 
The lady-fern or feathery brake ; 
Or sit beside the winding path 
Bordered by ripening wheat or oat, 
When on the gentle summer air 
The poppy’s crimson banners float. 
