Through fragrant hours my life I pass, 
Beneath the shelt’ring Yew; 
And gaily raise my laughing face. 
Suffus’d with roseate dew. 
But, Celia, press me to thy lip, 
(A lip that pouts for kisses) 
No other dew I’d care to sip, 
But die amid such blisses. 
Iragaria Iadica 
YELLOW-FLOWERED STRAWBERRY. 
