Fair children of nature! a fragrance is round them,
Derived from the parent who first gave them birth,
And who, in her ceaseless affection, hath crowned them,
The simplest and sweetest adornments of earth.

In shadow and sunshine they blossom and flourish,
On high, hanging cliff—in the forest’s deep gloom;
The wildest of mountains their loveliness nourish,
And dark, hollow caves are their cradle and tomb.

But e’en as we gaze on the flower, ‘tis faded—
Its beauties are fleeting, and live but a day;
Too quickly the leaves by death’s colours are shaded,
Till lowly it droops its fair head to decay.

‘Tis an emblem of life, for an infancy’s hours
We know not its thorny and dangerous road—
Our tears fall as lightly as dew from the flowers,
And leave the heart gay as if ne’er they had flowed.

But when the rough blasts of misfortune assail us,
Or frosts of unkindness fall chill on the heart,—
When friends we have loved, in adversity fail us,—
‘Tis then that the tear-drops of sorrow will start.

Too often, alas! the bright visions we cherish
Of friendship and faith, fade away from our sight,
And the fond dreams of hope in their infancy perish,
At the withering touch of ingratitude’s blight.