The Primrose 



amongst the mossy roots of some old 

 beech, or springing up beneath the hazel- 

 bushes, amongst Violets and White Ane- 

 mones and the more abundant Dog's 

 Mercury with its small green flowers, 

 from a floor which, with all its green, 

 looks so beautifully dry, and is guarded 

 by an atmosphere of such echoing still- 

 ness that we scarce feel out of doors : 

 at least, these are the situations in 

 which I have found the Primrose finest, 

 but it is often very beautiful on shel- 

 tered banks. The flower is of a most 

 unusual colour, a pale delicate yellow 

 slightly tinged with green. And the 

 better flowers impress us by a peculiar 

 paleness, not dependent upon any feeble- 

 ness of hue, which we always find un- 

 pleasing, but rather upon the exquisite 

 softness of their tone. And we must not 

 overlook the little round stigma, that 

 green and translucent gem, which forms 

 the pupil of the eye, and is surrounded 

 by a deeper circle of orange, which helps 

 it to shine forth more clearly. Many 

 flowers have a somewhat pensive look, 

 but in the pensiveness of the Primrose 

 there is a shade of melancholy — a melan- 

 choly, however, which awakens no thought 

 of sadness, and does but give interest to 

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