The Cowslip 



may still rejoice for what slight symbol 

 of it is preserved imperishably in the 

 Cowslip. 



Cowslips ! how the children love them, 

 and go out into the fields on the sunny 

 April mornings to collect them in their 

 little baskets, and then come home and 

 pick the pips to make sweet unintoxicat- 

 ing wine, preserving at the same time 

 untouched a bunch of the goodliest flowers 

 as a harvest-sheaf of beauty ! And then 

 the white soft husks are gathered into 

 balls, and tossed from hand to hand till 

 they drop to pieces, to be trodden upon 

 and forgotten. And so at last, when each 

 sense has had its fill of the flower, and 

 they are thoroughly tired of their play, 

 the children rest from their celebration of 

 the Cowslip. Blessed are such flowers 

 that appeal to every sense. There is 

 nothing here possible of vulgar gluttony, 

 but just a graceful recognition of the lower 

 nature, which steps in for once as the 

 imagination's guest. May not this be 

 part of the reason why the Cowslip is so 

 dearly loved ? Cowslip ! The name is 

 of ancient Saxon origin, and very appro- 

 priate if we consider it well. I have 

 already said that the plant reminds us of 

 flocks of cattle feeding — at first sight I 

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