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TRIFLES.
63
TRIFLES.
Little streamlet, murmur
On thy quiet way,—
Down in lowland meadows
Kiss the crowfoot gay;
Refresh the thirsty cattle,
Cool the reaper's brow,—
Lave the hazel bushes
Which the ripe nuts bow,—
All thy course with humble gifts,
Little stream, endow.

Red-lipped, blushing daisy,
Pride will pass thee by,—
But thy modest sweetness
Draws the thoughtful eye;
Cast thy fragrant odors
On the soft south breeze,
Touch the brow of beauty,
Scent the clover seas,—
Make a feast of honey
For the toiling bees.

White cloud, sail the azure,
'Mid the crystal stars,—
Drop thy graceful shadow
Through the amber bars;