AND FLOWERS OF POETRY. 179 
of eve, entitle it to its frequent association with the woodbine 
or honeysuckle. 
Its sides I ’ll plant with dew-sweet eglantine, 
And honeysuckles full of clear bee wine. 
Keats. 
Yonder is a girl who lingers 
Where wild honeysuckle grows, 
Mingled with the brier-rose. 
H. Smith. 
Bums says: “I have some favourite flowers in spring, among 
which are the mountain-daisy, the harebell, the wild-brier rose, 
the budding birch, and the hoary hawthorn.” 
We eye the rose upon the brier, 
Unmindful that the storm is near. 
The fragrance exhaled by the sweet-brier, especially after a 
gentle shower, is so agreeable and refreshing, that we do not 
think it can be too thickly planted amid our plantations and 
thickets. Dryden, from Chaucer, thus celebrates its delightful 
fragrance: — 
A sweeter spot on earth was never found, 
I looked, and looked, and still with new delight; 
Such joy my soul, such pleasures filled my sight; 
. And the fresh eglantine exhaled a breath, 
Whose odours were of power to raise from death. 
The world is full of poetry — the air 
Is living with its spirit; and the waves 
Dance to the music of its melodies, 
And sparkle in its brightness. 
Perceval. 
