THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. J33 
I ga;:ed awhile, and felt as light and free 
As though the fanning wings of Mercury 
Had play’d upon my heels : I was light-hearted, 
And many pleasures to my vision started; 
So I straightway began to pluck a posy 
Of luxuries bright, milky, soft and rosy. 
A bush of May-flowers with the bees about them; 
Ah, sure no tasteful nook could be without them; 
And let a lush laburnum oversweep them, 
And let long grass grow round the roots, to keep 
them 
Moist, cool and green ; and shade the violets, 
That they may bind the moss in leafy nets. 
A filbert edge with wild-brier overtwined, 
And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind 
Upon their summer thrones ; there too should be 
The frequent chequer of a youngling tree, 
That with a score of bright-green brethren shoots 
From the quaint mossiness of aged roots: 
Round which is heard a spring head of cleat 
waters, 
Prattling so wildly of its lovely daughters, 
The spreading blue-bells : it may haply mourn 
That such fair clusters should be rudely torn 
From their fresh beds, and scatter’d thoughtlessly 
By infant hands left on the path to die. 
Open afresh your round of starry folds, 
Ye ardent marigolds! 
Dry up the moisture from your golden lids. 
For great Apollo bids 
