Bishop Mant thus describes the place where Mosses 
grow:— 
On upland hill, in lowland vale, 
And where the frigid vapours sail, 
Mantling the Alpine mountain hoar, 
On granite-rock, or boggy moor, 
On peat-clad marsh, or sandy heath, 
On hillock’s grassy slope ; beneath 
The hedge-road fence, and on the bank, 
Fringed with the plumed osier dank, 
Of streamlet, pool, , or waterfall; 
On wave-washed stone, on plastered wall; 
On tree of forest, or of fruit, 
The bark-clad trunk, the heaving root; 
Or where the spring with oozing slime 
Slides trickling down the rifted lime; 
Or where the grav’ly pathway leads 
Through shady woods, o’er plashy meads 
Exulting in the wintry cold, 
Their cups the mossy tribes unfold; 
Eringed, and beneath a coping hid 
Of filmy veil, and convex lid, 
On many a thread-like stalk, bespread 
With yellow, brown, or crimson red, 
In contrast to the leaves of green, 
A velvet carpet, where the queen 
Of fairies might in triumph lie 
And view the elvish revelry; 
Soft as the cygnet’s downy plume, 
Or produce of the silkworm’s loom, 
Survey them by the unaided eye, 
And, if the seeds within you lie 
