Published in the Hull Monthly Express, 25th April 1885
Though some may by the hedgerows stray
And pass the wild flow’rs on their way,
Their humble looks despising;
To those who from the grassy sod
Look up to Nature’s mighty God.
The least is well worth prizing.
To me the stream, the wood, the field,
A never failing pleasure yield
For each some charm discloses;
When weary with the toils of life
I long to find a rest from strife,
On these my soul reposes.
Each flower in its separate way
Adds beauty to the charms of day,
And calls for adoration
Of him whose wise all-seeing mind
Made sun and shade for every kind
And order’d all creation.
I see the roses bend their heads
To shun the glare that overspreads
Each cheek with crimson blushes;
The violets too, who hide with care
The Royal purple dress they wear
Beneath the way-side bushes.
The scarlet pimpernel, too tired
To seek a shelter more desired,
Has closed its eyes completely;
Whilst blood-red poppies, parch’d and dried,
Too tall beneath their leaves to hide,
Are bowing down discreetly.
Upon the fishpond broad and deep,
The waterlilies seem to sleep,
Their thirst well quench’d by drinking;
Whilst close beside them high and dry,
The yellow iris heaves a sigh,
Of shady reedpools thinking
Within the shadow of the wood,
The woodbine full of gratitude,
Throws incense from its flowers;
The Pasque-flower, quite a floral gem,
Uprising from its leafy stem,
Beneath the shelter cowers.
The Periwinkles starry blue,
The Vetch’s variegated hue,
The Foxgloves lofty spire,
St John’s Wort, with its golden bloom
With life-like orchids, that assume
A simple green attire.
All these in turn I see display’d
In shelter’d nook or open glade,
The hardy and the tender;
And praise the Lord of All, who made
The woods for those that love the shade
For others sunny splendour.