A WILD FLOWER WREATH. 
195 
The rustic blushing heath, 
That lurks the fern beneath, 
Should grace our wilding wreath 
With many a pendant bell; 
The fair anemone 
Might well with these agree, 
Reft from her sheltering tree, 
Low in the copsewood dell. 
No less the floweret pale, 
The lily of the vale 
That scents the roving gale, 
Yet loves its leafy shade ; 
And well my hand, I ween, 
(If such my task had been,) 
Could twine the myrtle green 
To crown the mountain maid. 
