Poems (Edwards)/Wild Flowers
WILD FLOWERS.
Suggested by hearing a gentleman say he did not like wild flowers, because they reminded him of an uncultivated mind.
O! give me the flowers, the fresh wild flowers, That grow on the dark green hills,That bend, like spirits of love and light, Over the clear blue morning rills;That wake to life in the young spring time, On the valley, hill and dale,And breathe their holy fragrance out, On the wings of the passing gale.
I love the flowers, the fresh wild flowers, That grow in the dark old woods,Their beauty gladdens their shady bowers, And brightens their solitudes; They bring a light to the loving heart, They soften our daily cares,They hush the sigh, and they dry the eyes That have long been wet with tears.
The bright wild flowers! O! tell me not Of flowers in a garden cell;Can the pent-up bud of a prisoned flower Compare with the bright blue bell,That winds its tendrils around our feet, When we roam through its tangled maze,And hold our breath, with a wild delight, To list to the blue bird's lays?
O! the wild fresh flowers! the wild bright flowers They are dear, they are dear to me,I love their fragrance soft and sweet, As its floats on the zephyrs free;When they lift their heads to the bright blue sky And smile in their leafy bowers,Methinks there is nought on earth can vie With the beautiful wild wood flowers.