Gardens 4
The pied wind-flower and the tulip tall,
And narcissi, the fairest among them all,
And the Naiad-like lily of the vale,
Whom youth makes so fair and passion SO pale,
And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,
Which Sung from its bells a sweet peal anew.
And See His Own Crop,
A thankful man is he,
For he thinks, all through the winter
How rich his board will be!
And how his merry little ones
Around the fire will stand,
Each with a large potato
In a round and rosy hand.
MORNING HYMN.
Now the sun is in the skies,
From my bed again I rise;
Christ, thou never-setting Sun,
Shine on me, thy little one.
—Select.