Poems (Gould, 1833)/The Ground Laurel

by Hannah Flagg Gould

THE GROUND LAUREL.^[1]

I love thee, pretty nursling Of vernal sun and rain;For thou art Flora's firstling, And leadest in her train.

When far away I found thee It was an April morn;The chilling blast blew round thee, No bud had decked the thorn.

And thou alone wert hiding The mossy rocks between,Where, just below them gliding, The Merrimack was seen.

And while my hand was brushing The scary leaves from thee,It seemed that thou wert blushing To be disclosed to me.

So modest, fair and fragrant, Where all was wild and rude,To cheer the lonely vagrant Who crossed thy solitude,—

Thou didst reward my ramble By shining at my feet,When, over brake and bramble, I sought thy lone retreat,—

As some sweet flower of pleasure Upon our path may bloom,'Mid rocks and thorns that measure Our journey to the tomb!

1. Epigea Repens.