The graceful foliage storms may reave
The noble stem they cannot grieve.
For me" - She stooped, and, looking round,
Plucked a blue harebell from the ground,-
"for me, whose memory scarce conveys
an image of more splendid days,
This little flower that loves the lea
May well my simple emblem be;
it drinks heaven's Dew as blithe as rose
that in the kings own garden grows;
and when I place it on my hair,
allan, a bard is bound to swear
He ne'er saw coronet so fair"
Then playfully the chaplet wild
she wreathed her dark locks, and smiled
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