CHAPTER XVI 



FLOWERS OF THE SAINTS 



" The Snowdrop, in purest white arraie, 



First rears her hedde on Candlemas daie; 

 While the Crocus hastens to the shrine 



Of primrose love on St. Valentine. 

 Then comes the Daffodil beside 



Our Lady's Smock at our Ladye-tide. 

 Aboute St. George, when blue is worn, 



The blue Harebells the fields adorn; 

 Against the day of Holie Crosse, 



The Crowfoot gilds the flowrie grasse. 

 When St. Barnabie bright smiles night and daie 



Poor ragged Robin blooms in the haie. 

 The Scarlet Lychnis, the garden's pride. 



Flames at St. John the Baptist's tide. 

 From Visitation to St. Swithen's Showers, 



The Lilie white reigns Queen of the flowers; 

 And Poppies, a sanguine mantle spread 



For the blood of the Dragon St. Margaret shed. 

 Then under the wanton Rose, agen, 



That blushes for penitent Magdalen, 

 Till Lammas Daie, called August's wheel, 



When the long Corn smells of Camamile. 

 When Mary left us here belowe. 



The Virgin's Bower is fuUe in blowe; 

 And yet anon, the full Sunflower blewe. 



And became a starre for Bartholomew. 

 The Passion-floure long has blowed, 



To betokene us signs of the Holy Roode. 

 The Michaelmas Daisies, among dede weeds, 



Blooms for St. Michael's valorous deeds; 

 And seems the last of flowers that stode. 

 Till the feste of St. Simon and St. Jude. 



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