242 
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 
TO A JASMINE-TREE 
GROWING IN THE COURT OF HAWORTH CASTLE, 
BY LORD MORPETH. 
My slight and slender jasmine-tree, 
That bloomest on my Border tower, 
'Ihou art more dearly loved by me, 
Than all the wealth of fairy bower. 
I ask not, while I near thee dwell, 
Arabia’s spice or Syria’s rose; 
Thy bright festoons more freshly smell, 
Thy virgin white more freshly glows.’ 
My mild and winsome jasmine-tree, 
That climbest up the dark gray-wal’. 
Thy tiny flowerets seem in glee, 
Like silver spray-drops down to fall: 
Say, did they from their leaves thus peep, 
When mail’d moss-troopers rode the hill, 
When helmed wardens paced the keep, 
And bugles blew for Belted Will ? 
My free and feathery jasmine-tree, 
Within the fragrance of thy breath, 
Yon dungeon grated to its key, 
And the chain’d captive pined for death. 
On Border fray, on feudal crime, 
I dream not while I gaze on thee ; 
The chieftains of that stern old time 
Could ne’er have loved a jasmine-tree. 
