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FLORAL POESY. 
With all its wealth of sweets could cheer. 
Like thee, the hardy mountaineer. 
Flower of his heart ! thy fragrance mild, 
Of peace and freedom seems to breathe ; 
To pluck thy blossoms in the wild, 
And deck his bonnet with the wreath. 
Where dwelt of old his rustic sires. 
Is all his simple wish requires. 
Flower of his dear-loved native land ! 
Alas, when distant, far more dear ! 
When he, from some cold foreign strand, 
Looks homeward through the blinding tear, 
IIow must his aching heart deplore 
That home and thee he sees no more. 
HEATH. 
How oft, though grass and moss are seen 
Tanned bright for want of showers, 
Still keeps the ling its darksome green. 
Thick set with little flowers. 
THE LILAC. 
(The Joy of Youth.) 
O NE of our sweetest spring flowers It will not live 
long when separated from its parent tree. 
