Little flower! — I’ll make a stir, 
Like a great Astronomer. 
Modest, yet withal an elf, 
Bold, and lavish of thyself; 
Since we needs must first have met, 
I have seen thee high and low, 
Thirty years or more, and yet 
’Twas a face I did not know; 
Thou hast now, go where I may, 
Fifty greetings in a day. 
Ere a leaf is on a bush, 
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 none. 
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! 
