Page:The Romance of Nature; or, The Flower-Seasons Illustrated.djvu/196

110 When Zephyrus drives the red clouds i' the morn,

The lark upsprings

On her dewy wings,

From our sheltering sprays to the sky upborne,

And, soaring, sings

Her love for the wild and purple Heather,

Where her callow nestlings lie safe together.

Glorious, and glad, and dear are we,

Ringing our bells o'er the heath in glee.

Glorious and glad—and oh! most dear

Is the Heather-bloom to the mountaineer;

And dear to his children, who, laughing, come

And carry bright wreaths to their cottage home.

As the blessed things roam, neath their fairy feet

We rustling dance,

And our heads advance

Their innocent hands to gift and greet;

For childhood's glance,

When playmates laugh merrily out together,

Like sunlight shines on the bells of Heather

In our freedom we scorn such slaves as ye,

Your empty pride, and your vanity:—

Ye are fine, 'tis true—and neat and trim,

But are ye not shut in a prison dim?

Ye are captive slaves, though ye boast and sneer,

And think we should bow to your grandeur here.