Bring hither all your quaint 
enamell’d eyes 
That on the green turf suck the honey’d 
showers 
And purple all the 
ground with vernal 
flowers. 
Bring the rathe 
primrose that forsaken 
dies, 
The tufted crow-toe, and pale 
jessamine, 
The glowing violet, 
The white pink, and the pansy 
freaked with jet, 
The musk-rose and the well 
attired woodbine, 
With cowslips wan that hang 
the pensive head, 
And every flower that sad 
embroidery wears: 
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, 
To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid 
lies. 
JoHN MILTON. 
(Lycidas.) 
