*50 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
the primrose of the rock. 
BY WORDSWORTH. 
A rock there is whose lonely front 
The passing traveller slights ; 
Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamp* 
Like stars, at various heights; 
And one coy primrose to that rock 
The vernal breeze invites. 
What hideous warfare hath been waged 
What kingdoms overthrown, 
Since first I spied that primrose tuft, 
And mark’d it for pay own ! 
A lasting link in nature’s chain 
From highest heaven let down. 
The flowers, still faithful to the sterna, 
Their fellowship renew; 
The stems are faithful to the root, 
That worketh out of view; 
And to the rock the root adheres, 
In every fibre true. 
Close clings to earth the living rock. 
Though threatening still to fall; 
The earth is constant to her sphere. 
And God upholds them all: 
