189 
Sometimes we crown 
The castle’s dizziest tower, and look 
Laughingly down 
On the pigmy men in the world below. 
Wearily wandering to and fro. 
Sometimes we dwell on the cragged crest 
Of moimtain high ; 
And the ruddy sun, from the blue sea’s breast 
Climbing the sky. 
Looks fi'om his couch of glory up. 
And lights the dew in the Harebell’s cup. 
We are crowning the mountain 
With azure bells. 
Or decking the fountain 
In forest dells, 
Or wreathing the ruin with clusters gay. 
And nodding and laughing the live-long day. 
Then chiming our lullaby, tired with play. 
Are we not beautiful ? Oh! are not we 
The darlings of mountain, and moorland and lea ? 
Plunge in the forest—are we not fair? 
Go to the high road—we’ll meet ye there. 
Oh ! where is the flower that content may tell 
Like the. laughing, and nodding, and dancing Hare¬ 
bell ? 
