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Floral Poetry. 
TO A JASMINE-TREE. 
GROWING IN THE COURT OF HAWORTH CASTLE. 
]M[Y slight and slender Jasmine-tree, 
AOA That bloomest on my Border tower, 
Thou art more dearly loved by me, 
Than all the wealth of fairy bower. 
I ask not, while I near thee dwell, 
Arabia’s spice or Syria’s rose; 
Thy bright festoons more freshly smell, 
Thy virgin white more freshly glows. 
My mild and winsome Jasmine-tree, 
That climbest up the dark-grey wall, 
Thy tiny flow’rets seem in glee, 
Like silver spray-drops down to fall: 
Say, did they from their leaves thus peep, 
When mailed moss-troopers rode the hill, 
When helmed wardens paced the keep, 
And bugles blew for Belted Will ? 
My free and feathery Jasmine-tree, 
Within the fragrance of thy breath, 
Yon dungeon grated to its key, 
And the chained captive pined for death. 
On Border fray, on feudal crime, 
I dream not while I gaze on thee; 
The chieftains of that stern old time 
Could ne’er have loved a Jasmine-tree. 
Lord Morpeth. 
