To the Round-Leaved Sundew. “ By the lone fountain’s secret bed, Where human footsteps rarely tread, ’Mid the wild moor or silent glen, The Sundew blooms unseen by men ; Spreads there her leaf of rosy hue, A chalice for the morning dew, And, ere the summer’s sun can rise, Drinks the pure waters of the skies. “ Wouldst thou that thy lot were given Thus to receive the dews of heaven, With heart prepared, like this meek flower ? Come, then, and hail the dawning hour ; So shall a blessing from on high, Pure as the rain of summer’s sky, Unsullied as the morning dew Descend, and all thy soul imbue. “ Yes ! like the blossoms of the waste, Would we the sky-born waters taste, To the High Fountain’s sacred spring, The chalice let us humbly bring : So shall we find the streams of heaven To him who seeks are freely given ; The morning and the evening dew Shall still our failing strength renew.”