But this bold floweret climbs the hill,
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,
Plays on the margin of the rill,
Peeps round the fox's den.

Within the garden's cultured round,
It shares the sweet carnation's bed;
And blooms on consecrated ground
In honour of the dead.

The lambkin crops its crimson gem,
The wild bee murmurs on its breast,
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem,
Light o'er the sky-lark's nest.

'T is Flora's page.—In every place,
In every season, fresh and fair,
with perennial grace,

It opens

And blossoms every where.

On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;

The Rose has but a summer's reign,

The Daisy never dies.

J. MONTGOMERY.

THE DAISY IN INDIA.

"Supposed to be addressed by the Rev. Dr. Carey, the learned and illustrious Baptist Missionary at Serampore, to the first plant of this kind, which sprang up, unexpectedly, in his garden, out of some English earth, in which other seeds had been conveyed to him from this country. The subject was suggested by reading a letter from Dr. Carey, to a botanical friend in England."

THRICE welcome! little English flower!
My mother-country's white and red
In rose or lily, to this hour,

Never to me such beauty spread.
Transplanted from thine island-bed,
A treasure in a grain of earth,
Strange as a spirit from the dead,
Thine embryo sprang to birth.

Thrice welcome! little English flower!
Whose tribes beneath our natal skies
Shut close their leaves while vapours lower;
But when the sun's gay beams arise,
With unabashed, but modest eyes
Follow his motion to the west,

Nor cease to gaze till daylight dies,
Then fold themselves to rest.

G

Thrice welcome! little English flower!
Of early scenes beloved by me,
While happy in my father's bower,

Thou shalt the bright memorial be!
The fairy sports of infancy,

Youth's golden age, and manhood's prime, Home, country, kindred, friends,—with thee, Are mine in this far clime.

Thrice welcome! little English flower!
I'll rear thee with a trembling hand :
O for the April sun and shower,

The sweet May-dews of that fair land,
Where Daisies, thick as star-light, stand
In every walk!—that here might shoot
Thy scions, and thy buds expand,

A hundred from one root!

Thrice welcome! little English flower!
To me the pledge of hope unseen!
When sorrow would my soul o'erpower,

For joys that were, or might have been,
I'll call to mind, how, fresh and green,
I saw thee waking from the dust,
Then turn to heaven with brow serene,
And place in God my trust.

J. MONTGOMERY.

The Wall Flower.

Cheiranthus fructilosus.

Class Tetradynamia. Order Siliquosa.

A VERY interesting plant, from the scenery in which it is always found, springing from the chinks of old castles and abbeys, and gracing their ruined walls with its bright flowers, and 'delightful scent. Its petals differ, in their pure golden yellow, from those of the garden species, which are often richly tinged with brown or blood-red.

The C. Tristis or Melancholy Gilliflower, is a native of the seacoast in the south of France, Spain, and Italy. Its blossoms, of a dull purple, are scentless in the daytime, but exhale a rich nocturnal fragrance.

THE WALL FLOWER.

"WHY loves my flower, the sweetest flower
That swells the golden breast of May,
Thrown rudely o'er this ruined tower,
To waste her solitary day?

Why, when the mead, the spicy vale,
The grove and genial garden call,
Will she her fragrant soul exhale,
Unheeded on the lonely wall.

For never sure was beauty born

To live in death's deserted shade! Come, lovely flower, my banks adorn,

My banks for life and beauty made."

Thus pity waked the tender thought,
And, by her sweet persuasion led,
To seize the hermit-flower I sought,
And bear her from her stony bed.

I sought-but sudden on mine ear
A voice in hollow murmurs broke,
And smote my heart with holy fear-
The Genius of the Ruin spoke.