T H K F A IKY - S SKARCH. 
no 
And ye who roam o’er daisied ground 
While Spring or Summer smiles around, 
And feel a bliss words may not tell. 
Know that the Fairy’s magic spell 
Is deepest in such place and time. 
And wakes that sense of joy sublime. 
Know, too, that a mysterious tie, 
A lofty bond of sympathy. 
Unites your spirits to the Fay, 
And this is why her charm can sway 
So potently your souls, for yet, 
No matter where her footsteps roam. 
She turns with memory’s fond regret 
To her first beauteous home, 
And often pines, but pines in vain, 
Another one so dear to gain. 
Thus mortals, whatsoe’er their lot, 
Turn ever to the sacred spot, 
The first dear home that gave them birth 
And deem it brightest of the Earth, 
And sigh that life no more can wear 
The blissful hues that deck’d it there. 
And now my pleasant task were done. 
Save that there comes a thought of one 
Who truly said “ they write in vain 
Who weave no moral with their strain 
And mine were little worth indeed 
If wanting this.—To those who read 
This simple tale, then, let me say, 
Cherish and love the lowly things 
That form the burden of my lay; 
For their sweet lives, tho’ brief as bright, 
