Voice of Flowers/The Hare-Bell
THE HARE-BELL;
A DEDICATION FOR AN ANNUAL, WITH THAT TITLE.
Ye have seen me oft, 'mid the summer day,
In my woodland home, with the breeze at play;
Catching the dews as they sparkling fell.
And folding them close in each floral bell;
And teaching my buds, with a joyous ray,
To lift their blue eyes to the King of Day.
But now, when the last leaf of Autumn is shed.
Ye thought, no doubt, I was sere and dead:
No, no! I have baffled the Spoiler's sting,
Affection's token to you to bring.
I have dared the wrath of the frosty sky,
To gather you blossoms that cannot die.
Will ye welcome me in from my toil and care,
For the blessings I breathe, and the sweets I bear?
If ye give me shelter this wintry hour,
If ye make me a guest at the hearth and bower,
You will never regret, I am fain to say,
The Hare-Bell's visit, this Christmas-day.