Floral Poetry. 
COWSLIPS. 
/\H ! fragrant dwellers of the lea, 
When first the wild wood rings 
With each sound of vernal minstrelsy, 
When fresh the green grass springs ! 
What can the blessed Spring restore, 
More gladd’ning than your charms ? 
Bringing the memory once more 
Of lovely fields and farms ! 
Of thickets, breezes, birds, and flowers; 
Of life’s unfolding prime ; 
Of thoughts as cloudless as the hours; 
Of souls without a crime. 
Oh ! blessed, blessed do ye seem, 
For even now, I turned, 
With soul athirst for wood and stream, 
From streets that glared and burned. 
From the hot town, where mortal care 
His crowded fold doth pen ; 
Where stagnates the polluted ah' 
In many a sultry den. 
And are ye here? and are ye here? 
Drinking the dew-like wine, 
’Midst living gales and waters clear, 
And heaven’s unstinted shine. 
