For works with similar titles, see The Harebell.
THE HAREBELL.
YOU see us in your country walks,
Perched on tall and slender stalks;
From our tiny bells we fling,
Music such as fairies sing!—
And our little cups of blue,
Are admired by not a few.
We are children of the sun,
Born when summer's course is run.
Yes, we Harebells are the pride
Of the sunny green bank side:
The fairest of the autumn flowers,
So full of beauty in the woodland bowers
Perched on tall and slender stalks;
From our tiny bells we fling,
Music such as fairies sing!—
And our little cups of blue,
Are admired by not a few.
We are children of the sun,
Born when summer's course is run.
Yes, we Harebells are the pride
Of the sunny green bank side:
The fairest of the autumn flowers,
So full of beauty in the woodland bowers