VULaARITT. 235 
‘‘ The farmer, in whose fields we’re found, 
Rejects us with disgrace. 
And looks on Poppies in his ground. 
As pimples in hrs face. 
Man too, of strange, perverted taste, 
Miscalls our potent sweets ; 
Yet leeks are mid his dainties placed. 
And onions crown his treats. 
The same high parentage we claim 
With oriental plants. 
And near relations, bear his name. 
Who in the garden flaunts. 
Owned to by soporific powers. 
Who share the doctor’s pride. 
Connected with physician flowers, 
To science we’re allied. 
<‘How bright, mid universal green. 
Our scarlet host appears. 
Not in more splendid garb are seen, 
St. James’ Volunteers. 
