And spill their nectar in each drop of dew.
My honest shoes, fast friends that never stray
Far from my couch, thus powdered, countrified,
Bearing many a mile the marks of their adventure,
At the post-house disgrace the Gallic gloss
Of those well-dressed ones who no morning dew
Nor Roman wormwood ever have gone through,
Who never walk, but are transported rather,
For what old crime of theirs I do not gather.
The gray blueberry bushes, venerable as oaks,—why is not their fruit poisonous? Bilberry called Vaccinium corymbosum; some say amœnum, or blue bilberry, and Vaccinium disomorphum Mx., black bilberry. Its fruit hangs on into September, but loses its wild and sprightly taste.