licious fruit, which are the property of any 
one who chooses to gather them. It is a 
charming gift that nature has withdrawn from 
the operation of those laws which render pro¬ 
perty exclusive; and this she is pleased to 
bestow on all her children. 
The flowers of the strawberry form pretty 
bouquets; but what barbarous hands would 
wish to gather them, and so destroy the pro¬ 
mised fruit ? Let us hear Wordsworth’s plea 
for the Strawberry Blossom. 
That is a work of waste and ruin — 
Do as Charles and I are doing — 
Strawberry blossoms, one and all, 
We must spare them, — here are many — 
Look at it, — the flower is small, 
Small and low, though fair as any j 
Do not touch it! — summers two 
I am older, Anne, than you. 
Pull the Primrose, sister Anne, 
Pull as many as you can. 
Here are daisies, take your fill ; 
Pansies, and the cuckoo flower : 
Of the lofty daffodil 
Make your bed and make your bower ; 
Pill your lap and fill your bosom j 
Only spare the strawberry blossom ! 
Primroses, the spring may love them, — 
Summer knows but little of them. 
Violets, a barren kind, 
Withered on the ground must lie ; 
Daisies leave no fruit behind, 
When the pretty flowerets die ; 
