Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 68, No 420, October 1850 :: A WILD-FLOWER GARLAND. BY DELTA. THE DAISY. I. The Daisy

A WILD-FLOWER GARLAND. BY DELTA. THE DAISY. I. The Daisy

A WILD-FLOWER GARLAND. BY DELTA. THE DAISY. I. The Daisy blossoms on the rocks, Amid the purple heath; It blossoms on the river's banks, That thrids the glens beneath: The eagle, at his pride of place, Beholds it by his nest; And, in the mead, it cushions soft The lark's descending breast. II. Before the cuckoo, earliest spring Its silver circlet knows, When greening buds begin to swell, And zephyr melts the snows; And, when December's breezes howl Along the moorlands bare, And only blooms the Christmas rose, The Daisy still is there! III. Samaritan of flowers! to it All races are alike, The Switzer on his glacier height,-- The Dutchman by his dyke,-- The seal-skin vested Esquimaux, Begirt with icy seas,-- And, underneath his burning noon, The parasol'd Chinese. IV. The emigrant on distant shore, Mid scenes and faces strange, Beholds it flowering in the sward, Where'er his footsteps range; And when his yearning, home-sick heart Would bow to its despair, It reads his eye a lesson sage-- That God is everywhere!

V.
Stars are the Daisies that begem
The blue fields of the sky,
Beheld by all, and everywhere,
Bright prototypes on high:—
Bloom on, then, unpretending flowers!
And to the waverer be
An emblem of St Paul's content,
St Stephen's constancy.

THE WHITE ROSE.

I.
Rose of the desert! thou art to me
An emblem of stainless purity,—
Of those who, keeping their garments white,
Walk on through life with steps aright.

II.
Thy fragrance breathes of the fields above,
Whose soil and air are faith and love;
And where, by the murmur of silver springs,
The Cherubim fold their snow-white wings;—

III.
Where those who were severed re-meet in joy,
Which death can never more destroy;
Where scenes without, and where souls within,
Are blanched from taint and touch of sin;—

IV.
Where speech is music, and breath is balm;
And broods an everlasting calm;
And flowers wither not, as in worlds like this;
And hope is swallowed in perfect bliss;—

V.
Where all is peaceful, for all is pure;
And all is lovely; and all endure;
And day is endless, and ever bright;
And no more sea is, and no more night;—

VI.
Where round the throne, in hues like thine,
The raiments of the ransom'd shine;
And o'er each brow a halo glows
Of glory, like the pure White Rose!

THE SWEET BRIAR.

I.
The Sweet Briar flowering,
With boughs embowering,
Beside the willow-tufted stream,
In its soft, red bloom,
And its wild perfume,
Brings back the past like a sunny dream!

II.
Methinks, in childhood,
Beside the wildwood
I lie, and listen the blackbird's song,
Mid the evening calm,
As the Sweet Briar's balm
On the gentle west wind breathes along—

III.
To speak of meadows,
And palm-tree shadows,
And bee-hive cones, and a thymy hill,
And greenwood mazes,
And greensward daisies,
And a foamy stream, and a clacking mill.

IV.
Still the heart rejoices,
At the happy voices
Of children, singing amid their play;
While swallows twittering,
And waters glittering,
Make earth an Eden at close of day.

V.
In sequestered places,
Departed faces,
Return and smile as of yore they smiled;
When, with trifles blest,
Each buoyant breast
Held the trusting heart of a little child.

VI.
The future never
Again can ever
The perished gifts of the past restore,
Nor, to thee or me,
Can the wild flowers be
What the Briar was then—oh never more!

THE WALL-FLOWER.

I.
The Wall-flower—the Wall-flower,
How beautiful it blooms!
It gleams above the ruined tower,
Like sunlight over tombs;
It sheds a halo of repose
Around the wrecks of time.
To beauty give the flaunting rose,
The Wall-flower is sublime.

II.
Flower of the solitary place!
Gray ruin's golden crown,
That lendest melancholy grace
To haunts of old renown;
Thou mantlest o'er the battlement,
By strife or storm decayed;
And fillest up each envious rent
Time's canker-tooth hath made.

III.
Thy roots outspread the ramparts o'er,
Where, in war's stormy day,
Percy or Douglas ranged of yore
Their ranks in grim array;
The clangour of the field is fled,
The beacon on the hill
No more through midnight blazes red,
But thou art blooming still!

IV.
Whither hath fled the choral band
That filled the Abbey's nave?
Yon dark sepulchral yew-trees stand
O'er many a level grave.
In the belfry's crevices, the dove
Her young brood nurseth well,
While thou, lone flower! dost shed above
A sweet decaying smell.

V.
In the season of the tulip-cup
When blossoms clothe the trees,
How sweet to throw the lattice up,
And scent thee on the breeze;
The butterfly is then abroad,
The bee is on the wing,
And on the hawthorn by the road
The linnets sit and sing.

VI.
Sweet Wall-flower—sweet Wall-flower!
Thou conjurest up to me,
Full many a soft and sunny hour
Of boyhood's thoughtless glee;
When joy from out the daisies grew,
In woodland pastures green,
And summer skies were far more blue,
Than since they e'er have been.

VII.
Now autumn's pensive voice is heard
Amid the yellow bowers,
The robin is the regal bird,
And thou the queen of flowers!
He sings on the laburnum trees,
Amid the twilight dim,
And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such scents, as thou to him.

VIII.
Rich is the pink, the lily gay,
The rose is summer's guest;
Bland are thy charms when these decay,
Of flowers—first, last, and best!
There may be gaudier on the bower,
And statelier on the tree,
But Wall-flower—loved Wall-flower,
Thou art the flower for me!

Clyx.com