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And nodding and laughing the livelong day; 
Then chiming our lullaby, tired with play. 
Are we not beautiful ? Oh! are not we 
The darlings of mountain and moorland and lea? 
Plunge in the forest—are we not fair ? 
Go to the high-road—we'll meet ye there. 
Oh! where is the flower that content may tell, 
Like the laughing and nodding and dancing bluebell. 
Louisa A. Twamley. 
The Hyacinth's for constancy, 
Wi' its unchanging blue. 
Burns. 
Orchis....A Belle. 
The Butterfly Orchis is rather rare except where 
there is a chalky soil. The Spider Orchis has gained 
its name from the great resemblance it bears to one of 
those large, fat-bodied garden spiders, which are often 
noticed for the singular beauty of the markings on 
their backs. Another is so very like a fly, that it is 
named the Fly Orchis; another is like a lizard, or 
some strange reptile, and the flowers being yellow, 
green, and purple, and twisted in and about one an¬ 
other in a very odd way, it really looks like some horri¬ 
ble group of queer living creatures. One, from being 
fancied like a man, is called Man Orchis; another, 
very gayly spotted, and ornamented with a helmet-like 
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