THE BLUE BELL.

"I WOULD not be a floweret hung
On high in mountain snows;
Nor o'er a castle wall be flung

All stately though it rose :
I'd breathe no sighs

For cloudless skies,

Nor perfumed eastern gale,

So I might be

A blue-bell free,

In some low verdant vale.

"For there the swains and maidens meet,
With summer sport and song,
And fairies lead with unseen feet

Their moonlight dance along :
Each tiny lip

Would gladly sip

The dew my cup enshrined,

And next morn's bee

Would drink from me

The sweets they left behind.