‘er. ie seb BS 
CHILDHOOD. 187 
I know where the blue geranium grows, 
And the stork’s-bill small and musky ; 
Where the rich osmunda groweth brown, 
And the wormwood white and dusky. 
There was a forest a-nigh our home,-— 
A forest so old and hoary,— 
How we loved in its ancient glooms to be, 
And remember its bygone story! 
We sate in the shade of its mighty trees, 
When the summer noon was glowing, 
And heard in the depths of its undergrowth 
The pebbly waters flowing. 
We quenched our thirst at the forest-well ; 
We ate of the forest berry ; 
And the time we spent in the good green-wood, 
Like the times of song, were merry. 
We had no crosses then, no cares; 
We were children like yourselves then ; 
And we danced and sang, and made us mirth, 
Like the dancing moonlight elves then! 
