Floral Poetry. 
1 x 4 
THE HAREBELL. 
V N Spring’s green lap there blooms a flower, 
A Whose cup imbibes each vernal shower; 
That sips fresh nature’s balmy dew, 
Clad in her sweetest, purest blue; 
Yet shuns the ruddy eye of morning, 
The shaggy wood’s brown shades adorning. 
Simple flow’ret! child of May ! 
Though hid from the broad gaze of day, 
Doomed in the shade thy sweets to shed, 
Unnoticed droops thy languid head; 
Still Nature’s darling thou’lt remain, 
She feeds thee with her softest rain; 
Fills each sweet bud with honeyed tears, 
With genial gales thy bosom cheers. 
Ah, then unfold thy simple charms, 
In yon deep thicket’s circling arms, 
Far from the fierce and sultry glare, 
No heedless hand shall harm thee there; 
Still, then, avoid the gaudy scene, 
The flaunting sun, th’ embroidered green, 
And bloom and fade, with chaste reserve, unseen. 
Caroline Symmons. 
