184 WILD FLOWERS. 
Whose writhing form meridian heat defies. 
Bends o’er his work, and every sinew tries; 
Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet. 
But spares the rising clover, short and sweet. 
Come Health ! come Jollity ! light-footed, come ; 
Here hold your revels, and make this your home.” 
Bloomfield. 
Now again for Howitt’s rich prose :_ 
“What a fragrance comes floating on the ! 
gale from the clover in the standing grass ; from 
the new-mown hay; and from these sycamore 
trees, with all their pendant flowers. It is deli¬ 
cious ; and yet one cannot help regretting that 
the year has advanced so for. Here, the wild 
rose is putting out ; the elder is already in 
flower ; they are all beautiful, but saddening 
signs of the swift-winged time. Let us sit down 
by this little stream, and enjoy the pleasantness 
that it presents, without a thought of the future. 
Ah! this sweet place is just in its pride. The i 
flags have sprung thickly in the bed of the ! 
brook, and their yellow flowers are beginnino" I 
to show themselves. The green locks of the ! 
water ranunculuses are lifted by the stream, and ! 
their flowers form snowy islands on the surface ; { 
