O COME and stand with me upon this ridge
That overlooks the sweet secluded vale;
Before us is a little rustic bridge,
A simple plank; and by its side a rail,
On either hand to guide the footsteps frail
Of first and second childhood; while below,
The murmuring brooklet tells its babbling tale,
Like a sweet under-song, which in its flow
It chanteth to the flowers that on its margin grow.

For many a flower does blossom there to bless
With beauty, and with fragrance to imbue
The borders—strawberry of the wilderness,
The starlike daisy, violet deeply blue,
And cowslip, in whose cup the morning dew
Glistens unspent till noontide's languid hour;
And, last of all, and fairest to the view,
The lily of the vale, whose virgin flower
Trembles at every breeze within its leafy bower.