THE CELANDINE AND THE DAISY. I LOVE the flowers that Nature gives away See in the lane, where geese and donkeys stray, A thing so dear to poet and to child, That when we see it on neglected wild, We prize old Nature's generosity. The Celandine one mighty bard may prize; THE SNOWDROP. YES, punctual to the time, thou 'rt here again, And Nature bless the spot where thou dost grow- THE GENTIANELLA. PRETTY stranger in our gardens, We should beg thee thousand pardons, Long forgotten, far too long, Never mention'd yet in song. Strange it is, that never ditty Ever told thee thou wert pretty : Rondo none, nor ritornella, Praises thee, my Gentianella. Very well I know thee, why Thou art not like the cloudless sky, Poets seek in fields and trees In the darkness far below, Where the dark-eyed sapphires grow? Lovely votary of the sun, By a vain and mortal lover, Not in foreign land at home,- THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. SOME flowers there are that rear their heads on high, That rush upon the eye with garish bloom, Not such art thou, sweet Lily of the Vale, We might believe, if such fond faith were ours, That thou wert once a maiden, meek and good, For very fear of her own loveliness, And died of love she never would confess. May 24th, 1846. |