To the Mayflower

Lovely flow'ret, sweetly blooming
'Neath our drear ungentle sky —
Shrinking, coy, and unassuming
From the gaze of mortal eye.

On thy bed of moss reposing,
Fearless of the drifting snow,
Modestly thy charms disclosing,
Storms but make them brighter glow,

Spring's mild, fragrant, fair attendant,
Blooming near the greenwood tree,
While the dew-drop, sparkling, pendant,
Makes thee smile bewitchingly.

Oh! I love to look upon thee,
Peeping from thy close retreat,
While the sun is shining on thee,
And thy balmy fragrance greet.

View exotics proudly growing
On the shelter'd, mild parterre,
But, if placed where thou art blowing
Would they bloom and blossom there?

April's breeze would quickly banish
All the sweets by them display'd,
Soon each boasted charm would vanish,
Every cherish'd beauty fade.

Scotia's offspring — first and fairest,
Nurst in snows, by storms caress'd
Oh! how lovely thou appearest
When in all thy beauty dress'd.

Red and white, so sweetly blending.
O'er thy fragrance throw a flush
While beneath the dew-drop bending,
Rivall'd but by beauty's blush.

Welcome little crimson favor
To our glades and valleys wild
Scotia ask'd, and Flora gave her,
Precious boon, her fairest child.

Lovely flow'ret, sweetly blooming
'Neath our drear ungentle sky —
Shrinking, coy, and unassuming
From the gaze of mortal eye.

On thy bed of moss reposing,
Fearless of the drifting snow,
Modestly thy charms disclosing,
Storms but make them brighter glow,

Spring's mild, fragrant, fair attendant,
Blooming near the greenwood tree,
While the dew-drop, sparkling, pendant,
Makes thee smile bewitchingly.

Oh! I love to look upon thee,
Peeping from thy close retreat,
While the sun is shining on thee,
And thy balmy fragrance greet.

View exotics proudly growing
On the shelter'd, mild parterre,
But, if placed where thou art blowing
Would they bloom and blossom there?

April's breeze would quickly banish
All the sweets by them display'd,
Soon each boasted charm would vanish,
Every cherish'd beauty fade.

Scotia's offspring — first and fairest,
Nurst in snows, by storms caress'd
Oh! how lovely thou appearest
When in all thy beauty dress'd.

Red and white, so sweetly blending.
O'er thy fragrance throw a flush
While beneath the dew-drop bending,
Rivall'd but by beauty's blush.

Welcome little crimson favor
To our glades and valleys wild
Scotia ask'd, and Flora gave her,
Precious boon, her fairest child.
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