Lessons from the Gorse

"To win the secret of a weed's plain heart."

Lowell.

      Mountain gorses ever-golden!

      Cankered not the whole year long!

      Do ye teach us to he strong,

      Howsoever pricked and holden

      Like your thorny blooms, and so

      Trodden on by rain and snow,

Up the hillside of this life, as bleak as where ye grow'?

      Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms!

      Do ye teach us to be glad

      When no summer can be had,

      Blooming in our inward bosoms?

      Ye, whom God preserveth still,

      Set as lights upon a hill,

Tokens to the wintry earth, that Beauty liveth still!

      Mountain gorses, do ye teach us

      From that academic chair

      Canopied with azure air,

      That the first fruit Wisdom reaches

      Hath the hue of childly cheek?

      Ye, who live on mountain peak,

Yet live low along the ground, beside the grasses meek!

      Mountain gorses! since Linnæus

      Knelt beside you on the sod,

      For your beauty thanking God,—

      For your teaching, ye should see us

      Bowing in prostration new,—

      Whence arisen,—if one or two

Drops be on our cheeks—O world! they are not tears, but dew.