HONE YSUCKLE. 
179 
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, 
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May, 
And cherry blossoms, and white cups, whose wine 
Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day ; 
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, 
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray, 
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold; 
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. 
And nearer to the river’s trembling edge 
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white 
And starry river buds among the sedge, 
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, 
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge 
With moonlight beams of their own watery light; 
And bulrushes and reeds of such deep green 
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. 
Me thought that of these visionary flowers 
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way 
That the same hues which in their natural bowers 
Were mingled or opposed, the like array 
Kept these imprisoned children of the hours 
Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, 
I hastened to the spot whence I had come, 
That I might there present it!—oh ! to whom ? 
FROM THE “RAPE OF PROSERPINE.” 
BARRY CORNWALL. 
Here this rose 
(This one half-blown) shall be my Maia’s portion, 
For that like it her blush is beautiful; 
