



262 POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
The waves beside them danced; but they 
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Outdid the sparkling waves in glee 
A poet could not but be gay, 
In ae a jocund company ; 
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought 
That wealth the show to me had brought : 
For oft, when on my couch I lie, 
In vacant or in pensive mood, 
They flash upon that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude ; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils, 
ON MY FRIEND ROBIN, 
VULGARLY CALLED RAGGED, 
A MAN of taste is Robinet, 
A dandy, spruce and trim ; 
Whoe’er would dainty fashions set 
Should go and look at him. 
Rob seorns-to wear his crimson coz 
As common people do ; 
He folds and fits it in and ous, 
And does it bravely, too. 
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