80 
PRIMROSE. 
Of all the flowers that grace the Spring— 
Of all the flowers the seasons bring, 
To me, while doomed to linger here, 
The lowly Primrose shall be dear ! 
Sprung, like a Primrose, in the wild, 
Short, like the Primrose, Marion smiled ; 
The Spring that gave her blossoms birth, 
Tore her for ever from the earth ; 
Nor left, ah me ! one bud behind 
To tranquillize a Parent’s mind. 
Save that sweet bud which strews the way, 
Blest Hope, to an eternal May ! 
Lorn tenant of the peaceful glade, 
Emblem of Virtue in the shade ! 
Pure as the blossoms on yon thorn, 
Spotless as her for whom we mourn ! 
Of all the flowers that greet the Spring— 
Of all the flowers the seasons bring, 
To me, while doomed to linger here, 
The lowly Primrose shall be dear. 
TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH 
MORNING DEW. 
HERRICK. 
Wiiy do you weep 1 Can tears 
Speak grief in you 
