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O'er field and hedge-row, by bank and stream,
Her path we trace in the rainbow gleam
Of the myriad flowers, that now unfold
Their treasures of silver and burnished gold;
And, queen of wild buds, the hyacinth blue
Rivals the skies with as bright a hue;
And the hedge-geranium, fair and brief,
Twines 'mid each gay group her fragrant leaf,
And star-like blossoms, that blushing, peep
Down sheltered lane and o'er rocky steep.
List!—'twas the nightingale's note ye heard:
To the fairest flower sings the sweetest bird,
For the earliest rose has opened, to fling
Her fragrant breath on the breeze of Spring.
Few trees are so magnificent in foliage as the horse-chesnut, with its large fan-like leaves, far more resembling those of some tropical plant than the garb of a forest tree in climes like ours; but when these are crowned with its pyramids of flowers, so splendid in their distant effect, and so exquisitely modelled and pencilled when we gather and examine their fair forms—is it not then the pride of the landscape? If the oak—the true British oak—be the forest king, let us give him at least a partner in his majesty; and let the chesnut, whose noble head is crowned by the hand of Spring with a regal diadem, gemmed with myramids of pearly, and golden, and ruby flowers—let her be queen of the woods in bonny England: and while we listen to the musical hum of the bees, as they load
