 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
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THE WILD STRAWBERRY FLOWER.
The snowdrop with its drooping head,
Pure as the snow around it spread,
And smiling on its wintry bed,
Has many a lover:
And dear to all the violet too,
Of virgin white or purple hue,
Sweetening the air which wanders through
Its leafy cover.
Pure as the snow around it spread,
And smiling on its wintry bed,
Has many a lover:
And dear to all the violet too,
Of virgin white or purple hue,
Sweetening the air which wanders through
Its leafy cover.
The matchless lily-of-the-vale,
Fragrant as fair, with joy we hail,
In thickets where the nightingale
Is rarely singing;
Amidst the painted flowers 'tis seen,
In sylvan nooks, a glorious queen,
With crown of pearl and robe of green
And sweet bells ringing.
Fragrant as fair, with joy we hail,
In thickets where the nightingale
Is rarely singing;
Amidst the painted flowers 'tis seen,
In sylvan nooks, a glorious queen,
With crown of pearl and robe of green
And sweet bells ringing.
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Adorned with a less radiant dower,
But dear to me, there comes a flower,
When verdure flushes bush and bower
And birds are merry;
It comes in unassuming vest,
With no alluring sweetness blest,
Of no conspicuous charm possest,
The wild-strawberry.
But dear to me, there comes a flower,
When verdure flushes bush and bower
And birds are merry;
It comes in unassuming vest,
With no alluring sweetness blest,
Of no conspicuous charm possest,
The wild-strawberry.
It spreads its mantling leaves in sight
On wayside banks, and lifts to light
Its little blossoms plain but white
And pure as any;
Meekly it creeps along the ground—
But some day soon there will be found
Through its leaves gleaming, berries round
And red and many.
On wayside banks, and lifts to light
Its little blossoms plain but white
And pure as any;
Meekly it creeps along the ground—
But some day soon there will be found
Through its leaves gleaming, berries round
And red and many.
A tempting banquet to the eye
Of birds that hop and flutter nigh,
Or children that go loitering by
Their fingers staining:
While other flowers, the snowdrop fair,
The violet sweet, the lily rare,
Of summer feast afford no share—
No fruit remaining.
Of birds that hop and flutter nigh,
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Their fingers staining:
While other flowers, the snowdrop fair,
The violet sweet, the lily rare,
Of summer feast afford no share—
No fruit remaining.
High gifts to others I resign
And worldly glories; be it mine
In gracious offices to shine
And duties lowly;
And when earth's flowers with sun and rain
Are faded, may my fruit remain—
A happy life not lived in vain
And memory holy.
And worldly glories; be it mine
In gracious offices to shine
And duties lowly;
And when earth's flowers with sun and rain
Are faded, may my fruit remain—
A happy life not lived in vain
And memory holy.
| Wood-notes and Church-bells | |