Floral Poetry. 
73 
But thou, Wild Bramble ! back dost bring, 
In all their beauteous power, 
The fresh green days of life’s fair spring, 
And boyhood’s blossomy hour. 
Scorned Bramble of the brake ! once more 
Thou bidd’st me be a boy, 
To gad with thee the woodlands o’er, 
In freedom and in joy. 
E. Elliott. 
BLUE-BELLS IN THE SHADE. 
T HE choicest buds in Flora’s train, let other fingers twine; 
Let others snatch the damask Rose, or wreathe the Eglantine ; 
I’d leave the sunshine and parterre, and seek the woodland glade, 
To stretch me on the fragrant bed of Blue-bells in the shade. 
Let others cull the Daffodil, the Lily soft and fair; 
And deem the Tulip’s gaudy cup most beautiful and rare ; 
But give to me, oh, give to me, the coronal that’s made 
Of ruby Orchis mingled with the Blue-bells from the shade ! 
The Sunflower and the Peony, the Poppy bright and gay, 
Have no alluring charms for me; I’d fling them all away : 
Exotic bloom may fill the vase, or grace the high-born maid; 
But sweeter far to me, than all, are Blue-bells in the shade. 
Eliza Cook. 
■4 
K 
