A Woodland Seat (continued)

Observe the flowers around us, how they live,
Not only for themselves, as we may feel,
But for the joy which they to others give;
For Nature never will her gifts conceal
From those who love to seek them. — Here amid
These trees, how many blooms disclose their pride
From the unthinking rustic only hid,
Who never turns him from the road aside,
To look for beauties which he values not.
It gives one greater zest to feel the joys
We meet in this sweet solemn-suited spot;
And with high ecstacy one's mind employs,
To bear the worst that fickle Life prepares,
Finding her sweets are common as her cares.