THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
107 
Far dearer to me are yon humble Broom bowers, 
Where the bluebell and gowan lurk lowly unseen; 
For there, lightly tripping amang the sweet flowers, 
A-listening the linnet, oft wanders my Jean. 
THE BLUE BELL.— Kindness. 
Commonly called the “ Wild Hyacinth.” 
Shade-loving-Hyacinth! thou comest again, 
And thy rich odours seem to swell the flow 
Of the lark’s song, the redbreast’s lovely strain, 
And the stream’s tune;—best sung where wild flowers 
blow, 
And ever sweetest where the sweetest grow. 
Elliott the Corn-law Rhymer. 
BUTTERCUPS.— Cheerfulness. 
Wildings of nature, I dote upon you; 
For ye waft me to summers of old, 
When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, 
And when daisies and Buttercups gladdened my sight, 
Like treasures of silver and gold. 
Campbell. 
Another writer glowingly says :— 
Again I feel my heart is dancing, 
With wildly-throbbing keen delight, 
At this bright scene of King-cups dancing 
Beneath the clear sun’s golden light. 
Again I pluck the little flower, 
The first my childhood ever knew, 
And think upon the place and hour 
Where and when that first one grew ; 
