100 
POETRY OR FLOWERS. 
Thy home is in the wild, 
’Mong sylvan shades, near music-haunted springs, 
Where peace dwells all apart from earthly things. 
Like some secluded child. 
The beauty of the sky, 
The music of the woods, the love that stirs 
Wherever nature charms her worshippers, 
Are all by thee brought nigh. 
I shall not soon forget 
What thou hast taught me in my solitude; 
My feelings have acquired a taste of good. 
Sweet flower ! since first we met. 
Thou bring’st unto the soul 
A blessing and a peace, inspiring thought; 
And dost the goodness and the power denote 
Of Him who formed the whole. 
TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
Fair flow’r, that lapt in lowly glade 
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade. 
Than whom the vernal gale 
None fairer wakes on bank or spray, 
Our England’s lily of the May, 
Our lily of the vale. 
