ficlfr flotws. 
Campbell. 
TTE field flowers ! the gardens eclipse you, ’tis true, 
* Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you, 
For ye waft me to Summers of old, 
When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, 
And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, 
Like treasures of silver and gold. 
I love you for lulling me back into dreams, 
Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams, 
And of birchen glades breathing their balm ; 
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote, 
And the deep, mellow crush of the wood-pigeon’s note, 
Made music that sweetened the calm. 
Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune 
Than ye speak to my heart, little wildings of June ; 
Of old ruinous castles ye tell, 
Where I thought it delightful your beauties to find, 
When the magic of nature first breathed on my mind, 
And your blossoms were part of the spell. 
