54 
TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. 
Why doe ye peep, sweet babes ? can teares 
Speak griefe in you, 
Who were but borne 
Just as the modest morn 
Teemed her refreshing dew? 
Alas! you have not known that shower 
That marres a flower; 
Nor felt th’ unkind 
Breath of a blasting wind: 
Nor are ye worne with yeares. 
Or warpt as we. 
Who think it strange to see 
Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young. 
To speak by teares before ye have a tongue. 
Speak, whimp’ring younglings, and make known 
The reason why 
Ye droop and weep. 
Is it for want of sleep. 
Or childish lullaby ? ' 
Or that ye have not seen as yet 
The violet ? 
Or broughte a kisse 
From that sweetheart to this ? 
No, no, this sorrow shown 
By your teares shed, 
Wo’d have this lecture read; 
That things of greatest, so of meanest worth. 
Conceived with griefe are, and with tears brought forth. 
The cowslip bells are generally named by poets as the re¬ 
sort of faries; Shakspeare’s “ dainty Ariel” sings— 
Where the bee sucks, there suck I; 
In a cowslip’s bell I lie; 
There I couch when owls do cry. 
