140 
FABLES OF FLORA. 
Then through the green old forest, 
Tripped Ellen Moore along, 
Her sweet voice softly chiming 
With the linnet’s evening song. 
She crossed the giant shadows 
Of old, gray-bearded trees, 
And saw their branches wave and toss 
Before the freshening breeze. 
She heard the solemn chorus 
That through the forest swept, 
And something like a reverent awe 
Through all her being crept. 
insensibly her footsteps 
l'ell swifter on the sward, 
And prayer burst from her trembling lips, 
‘ O, lead me safely, Lord! ’ 
The red rays from the moss-banks 
Had faded quite away; 
No longer on the oaken trunks 
The wavy sunshine lay. 
The pathway, quite o’ershaded, 
Grew dusky to her sight; 
God help the poor child Ellen, 
Lone wandering in the night! 
