A WILD FLOWED WREATH, 
BY TEE AUTHOR OE “ NugCR Sacra, 
If stranger hands might dare 
A wild-flower wreath prepare, 
The sweet enthusiastic’s hair, 
Her flowing hair to hind— 
Oh ! I would haste to bring 
The violet of Spring, 
Whose odours scent the wing 
Of every massing wind. 
Each flow’er that early blows, 
The May-bough’s wreathed snows, 
The wild-brier’s folded rose, 
And woodbine’s fragrant bloom ; 
The speedwell’s eye of blue, 
Suffused with morning dew, 
Should smilingly glance through 
The tresses of the broom. 
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