106
poems.
THE WANDERING CHILD.
A happy child in early May
Forth to a garden went to play;
But tempted by the beauty shown,
In the fair flowers profusely strewn,
Where a bright gushing rill sang low,
Released from its bed of snow,
He hasten'd, weary of that spot,
His father's fond commands forgot,
And pluck'd the blue-eyed violet
So bright, but with the dew-drops wet;
Then ranging farther, sought the wood
That, clad in early verdure, stood.
The stormy winter now was past,
And lovely spring had come at last;
And joyfully his heart leap'd up
To And the golden buttercup.
There fairest mosses deck'd the ground,
And many a flow'r the glad child found.
When far and distant singing,
On the clear air of morning borne,
And mingl'd with the mellow horn,
Came through the forest ringing!
Now freedom spoke in every sound,
And ever doth the young heart bound
Forth to a garden went to play;
But tempted by the beauty shown,
In the fair flowers profusely strewn,
Where a bright gushing rill sang low,
Released from its bed of snow,
He hasten'd, weary of that spot,
His father's fond commands forgot,
And pluck'd the blue-eyed violet
So bright, but with the dew-drops wet;
Then ranging farther, sought the wood
That, clad in early verdure, stood.
The stormy winter now was past,
And lovely spring had come at last;
And joyfully his heart leap'd up
To And the golden buttercup.
There fairest mosses deck'd the ground,
And many a flow'r the glad child found.
When far and distant singing,
On the clear air of morning borne,
And mingl'd with the mellow horn,
Came through the forest ringing!
Now freedom spoke in every sound,
And ever doth the young heart bound
