
224 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The hawthorn clusters bloom above ; 
The primrose hides below, 
And on the lonely passer-by 
A modest glance doth throw. 
The humble primrose’ bonnie face 
I meet it everywhere ; 
Where other flowers disdain to bloom, 
It comes and nestles there. 
Like God’s own light, on every place 
In glory it doth fall: 
And where its dwelling-place is made, 
It straightway hallows all. 
Where’er the green-winged linnet sings, 
The primrose bloometh lone ; 
And love it wins—deep love—from all 
Who gaze its sweetness on. 
On field-paths narrow, and in woods, 
We meet thee near and far, 
Fill thou becomest prized and loved, 
As things familiar are. 



The stars are sweet at eventide, 
But cold, and far away ; 
The clouds are soft in. summer time, 
But all unstable they : 
The rose is rich—but pride of place 
Is far too high for me— 










