20 WILD FLOWERS. 
And morning comes and goes, and then 
the day 
Within the arms of night its rest doth take ; 
But ye are watchful wheresoe’er we 
stray— 
I love ye all! 
Beautiful objects of the wild bee’s love ! 
The wild-bird joys your opening bloom 
to see, 
And in your native woods and wilds to be. 
All hearts, to Nature true, ye strangely 
move; 
Ye are so passing fair—so passing free— 
I love ye all! 
Beautiful children of the glen and dell— 
The dingle deep—the moorland stretch¬ 
ing wide. 
And of the mossy fountain’s sedgy side ! 
Ye o’er my heart have thrown a lovesome 
spell; 
And though the worldling, scorning, may 
deride— 
I love ye all! 
—Niooll. 
