Here do I love to be,

Mine eye alone in passionate love to dwell

Upon the loneliness and purity

Of every bud and bell.

Oh blessedness, to lie,

By the clear brook, where the long bennet dips! To press the rose-bud in its purity

Unto the burning lips!

To lay the weary head

Upon the bank, with daisies all beset,

Or with bared feet, at early dawn to tread
O'er mosses cool and wet!

And then to sit, at noon,

When bees are humming low, and birds are still, And drowsy is the faint uncertain tone

Of the swift woodland rill.

And dreams can then reveal

That, wordless though ye be, ye have a tone
A language and a power, that I may feel,
Thrilling my spirit lone.

Ye speak of Hope and Love,

Bright as your hues, and vague as your perfume; Of changeful, fragile thoughts, that brightly move Men's hearts amidst their gloom.

Ye speak of human life,

Its mystery-the beautiful and brief;
Its sudden fading 'midst the tempest strife,
Even as a delicate leaf.

And, more than all, ye speak

Of might, and power, of mercy, of the One
Eternal, who hath strew'd you fair and meek,
To glisten in the sun;

To gladden all the earth

With bright and beauteous emblems of his grace,
That showers its gifts of uncomputed worth
In every clime and place.

WILD FLOWERS.

BY SHELLY.

I DREAM'D that, as I wander'd by the way, Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray,

Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay

Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, But kiss'd it and then fled, as thou mightest in a dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;

Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets

Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-colour'd

May,

And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine

Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,

With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray, And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold; Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white,

And starry river buds among the sedge,

And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery
light;

And bulrushes and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowers

I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprison'd children of the hours

Within my hand, and then, elate and gay, I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it!-Oh! to whom?

CUPID INSPIRING PLANTS WITH

LOVE.

BY DYER.

TEEMING with Nature's lively hues,
I bid thee welcome, genial SPRING!
While fancy wakes her thousand lyres,
And woods and vales responsive sing.

She comes; lo! WINTER SCOwls away;
Harmonious forms start forth to view;
Nymphs tripping light in circles gay,
Deck'd in their robes of virgin hue.

Then I, on am'rous sportings bent,
Like a sly archer take my stand;

Wide through the world my shafts are sent;
And every creature owns my hand.

First man, the lord of all below,

A captive sinks beneath my dart; And lovely woman, made to glow, Yields the dominion of her heart.

Through sea, and earth, and boundless sky, The fond subjection all must prove, Whether they swim the stream or fly, Mountain, or vale, or forest rove.