














THE FOETRY OF FLOWERS 
TO A JASMINE-TREE 
GROWING IN THE COURT 0 HAWORTH CASTILE: 
BY LORD MORPETH. 
My sligat and slender jasmine-tree, 
That bloomest on my Border tower, 
Thou art more dearly loved by me, 
Than all the wealth of fairy bower. 
L 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 hilt 
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 ceath. 
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. 





























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