

FIELD LEAVES 
BY ELIZABETH OAK SMITH 

Tg tender violets bent in smiles 
To the elves that spo ee nigh, 
Tossing the drops of fr agrant dew 
To scent the evening sky, 
They kiss’d the rose in love and mirth, 
And its petal s faire er grew; 
A saower of oe rly dust they brought 
And over the lily threw. 
I saw one dainty creature crown 
The tulip’s painted cup, 
And bless with one soft kiss the urn, 
Then fold its petals up. 
A finger rock’d the young pird’s nest, 
As high on a branch ix hung, 
‘While the gleaming night dew rattled down 
Where the old dry leaf was flung 


