225 
OH, LANGUAGE OE FLO WEES. 
’Tis Flora’s page.—In every place. 
In every season, fresh, and fair. 
It opens with perennial grace, 
And blossoms every where. 
On waste and woodland, rock and plain, 
Its humble buds unheeded rise; 
The Rose has but a summer’s reign, 
The Daisy never dies. 
J. Montgomery. 
SONG. 
Their groves o’ sweet myrtle let foreign lands 
reckon, 
Where bright beaming summers exalt the per¬ 
fume, 
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o’ green bracken, 
Wi’ the burn stealing under the lang yellow 
Broom: 
Far dearer to me are yon humble Broom bowers, 
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly un¬ 
seen ; 
For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, 
A listening the linnet, oft wanders my Jean. 
Though rich is the breeze in their gay sunny 
valleys, 
And cauid Caledonia’s blast on the wave; 
o 
