WILD-WOOD BLOSSOMS.
Beautiful buds from the wild-wood brought;
Leaves that the sun would fade;
Born where the zephyrs, with fragrance fraught,
Linger amid the shade;
Where the day looks forth with a reverent eye,
The wave hath a murmur low,
And the soft winds steal, with a balmy sigh,
Through the blossoms of pink and snow.
Beautiful buds from the wild-wood brought;
Lilies so slight and pale,
Like breathing plants that the world hath taught
Meekness in sorrow's gale;
Delicate mosses, and long, clinging sprays
Of beautiful, flowering vine;
Dew blossoms, that close to the streamlet stays,
With the sweet, blue columbine.
Lilies so slight and pale,
Like breathing plants that the world hath taught
Meekness in sorrow's gale;
Delicate mosses, and long, clinging sprays
Of beautiful, flowering vine;
Dew blossoms, that close to the streamlet stays,
With the sweet, blue columbine.
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