8 
We are wreathed in her hair 
By the hands loved best, 
Or clustered with care 
On her gentle breast: 
And oh ! what geyns can so well adorn 
The fair-haired girl on her bridal morn ! 
Blooming in sunshine, and glowing in showers. 
Dancing in breezes — we gay young Flowers! 
How oft doth an emhlem-hud silently tell 
What language could never speak half so well! 
E’en sister flow’rs envy the favoured lot 
Of that blue-eyed darling. Forget-me-not. 
Hei: name is now grown a charmed word, 
By whose echo the holiest ‘thoughts are stirred.” 
Come forth in the Spring, 
And our wild haunts seek. 
When the wood-birds sing. 
And the blue skies break: 
Come forth to the hill—the wood—the vale — 
Where we metrily dance in the sportive gale ! 
Oh! come to the river’s rim, come to us there. 
For the white water-lily is wondrous fair, 
With her large broad leaves on the stream afloat 
(Each one a capacious fairy-boat). 
The sioan among Flowers ! how stately ride 
Her snow-white leaves on the rippling tide; 
