Wayside Flowers
Pluck not the wayside flower,It is the traveller's dower;A thousand passers-byIts beauties may espy,May win a touch of blessingFrom Nature's mild caressing.The sad of heart perceivesA violet under leavesLike sonic fresh-budding hope;The primrose on the slopeA spot of sunshine dwells,And cheerful message tellsOf kind renewing power;The nodding bluebell's dyeIs drawn from happy sky.Then spare the wayside flower!It is the traveller's dower.
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