CELANDINE. 
139 
Up and down the heavens they go. 
Men that keep a mighty rout; 
I’m as great as they, I trow, 
Since the day I found thee out. 
Little flower—I’ll make a stir 
Like a sage 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 her nest, 
Thou wilt ccme 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 ; 
