96 FLORA DOMESTICA, 



Thou hast now, go where I may, 

 Fifty greetings in a day. 



Ere a leaf is on a hush, 

 In the time before the thrush 

 Has a thought about its nest, 

 Thou wilt come with half a call, 

 Spreading out thy glossy breast 

 Like a careless prodigal ; 

 Telling tales about the sun, 

 When we 've little warmth, or hone. 



Poets, vain men in their mood ! 

 Travel with the multitude ; 

 Never heed them ; I aver 

 That they all are wanton wooers ; 

 But the thrifty cottager, 

 Who stirs little out of doors, 

 Joys to spy thee near her home : 

 Spring is coming, thou art come ! 



Comfort have thou of thy merit, 

 Kindly, unassuming spirit ! 

 Careless of thy neighbourhood, 

 Thou dost show thy pleasant face 

 On the moor, and in the wood, 

 In the lane there 's not a place, 

 Howsoever mean it be, 

 But 'tis good enough for thee. 



Ill befall the yellow flowers, 

 Children of the flaring hours ! 

 Buttercups, that will be seen, 

 Whether' we will see or no ; 

 Others, too, of lofty mien ; 

 They have done as worldlings do, 

 Taken praise that should be thine, 

 Little humble Celandine ! 



Prophet of delight and mirth, 

 Scorned and slighted upon earth ; 

 Herald of a mighty band, 

 Of a joyous train ensuing, 



