HEATH. 
171 
But I do not pine, and I do not grieve ; 
Why should I mourn for the things I leave ? 
I feel the sun and the gladsome air, 
And all places are joyous if they be there. 
And thus in the world we may happy be, 
Not in climate, nor valley, nor islet free ; 
But wherever the tenderest love in our breast 
May have objects around it on which it can rest. 
HEATH. 
{Solitude.) 
MOORLAND BLOSSOMS. 
ELIZA COOK. 
W ILD blossoms of the moorland, ye are very dear 
to me ; 
Ye lure my dreaming memory as clover does the bee ; 
Ye bring back all my childhood loved, when freedom, 
joy, and health 
Had never thought of wearing chains to fetter fame and 
wealth. 
Wild blossoms of the common land, brave tenants of 
the earth, 
Your breathings were among the first that helped my 
spirit’s birth ; 
