Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-11-20
Birds, Clouds, and Flowers,

See how the morning breeze is sporting with
the leaves Of the birch tree, and with the thick
hazel bushes beside that fence? 1t is the breath
of the earth, and upbears upon its bosom the
dear little birds. How brilliant their plumage
how their eyes sparklel how sweetly do they
sing! To inhale the pure air of heaven is their
greatest luxury. Here is this nest above us
a redbreasted robin is feeding her second brood
of little ones-there on that decayed tree a
woodpecker is hammering away with its thick
bill, ever and anon u~ttering a loud scream, as if
he wished to make all the noise, Within a few
feet a hooking bird is chattering loudly, mock
ing not only his companions, but ourself too, as
if he thought us an old fool. Among the clouds
the lark is pouring out under the open sky en-
joying their daily holiday.
The clouds-are they not magnificent, those
morning clouds, floating SO silently in the calm
ocean of the sky They are forever changing,
and every moment become still more beautiful.
1t would seem as if God had traced them
with his own hand, that man might have a faint
conception of the poetry of heaven. 1t may be
they are the vehicles whish angels employ when
they rise to hover over our world, to weep for
the wickedness of man, or rejoice at the triumph
of virtue. 1t is indeed a charming superstition
that would people the sky, and the air and the
clouds with "beings brighter than we have seem"
For ourself this would indeed be a ~sorrowful
world, were it not that we can at times go out OF
%ourself, as it were in imagination, and hold sweet
converse and have fellowship with such beings.
If the sordid, and selfish among our fellows,
laugh at us because we love the clouds and the
feelings they inspire, we would ask why is it
that God has made them? Why do they meet
our sight at morning, noon and evening !! Give
us a reasonable answer to this, we worldly, and
then will we acknowledge that it is folly to love
the workmanship of God! We love the clouds
because they are the shadows Of heavenly glo-
ries.
The lowers-are they not smiles of earth
But, if this be true, why is it they are weeping
when every thing around is so bright and JOY
full "Tis but the dew Of heaven, in which they
have been bathing all night long. Here at our
feet, a little bIue-bell lies PROSTATE upon the
damp earth. Some lazy OK has crushed it be-
meath his tread. We cannot-no, we would
not Danish the thought; it reminds us Of a
much-loved friend, who was the playmate and
companion of our boyhood. 1t reminds us oil
her, because
cher bloom was like the s%pringing flower
That sips the early dew,
The rose was budded in her cheek,
Just opening to view.
But love had, like the canker-worm,
Consumed her early prime;
The rose grew pale and left her cheek,
She died before her time."-MAllET.
There is a deeper philosophy in the language
of flowers than is generally supposed, Its foun
dation is based upon a motive more importan
than mere amusement. The life of every fowe
that ever bloomed has power to bring instruction
and pleasurable feeling to the human heart
We love them, not because of thir beauty alone
but because they always remind us Of a kline
and merciful Creator. We love them, becaus
they are the stars in the green armament o
earth.-MonrOe (Mich) Gd2.