For there is beauty in the cowslip bell That must be sought for ere it can be spied, And her pure perfume must be known full well Before its goodness can be testified ; And therefore do I give the flower to thee, Thinking thee better than I know or see. THE COWSLIP AND THE LARK. My pretty lady cowslip! prim and shy, I wish thee sometimes in a long road-side And thou, bold lark! thou shivering voice on high! Why wilt thou not, my merry bird, advance, The brave bird of the sky and floweret of the green. ON A BUNCH OF COWSLIPS, GROWN NEAR THE WRAY, AND PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR BY A LADY. SWEET stranger lady, of a southern land, Has the soft magic of a lady's hand Evoked thy slimness from the cold north clay? Thy sister Primrose is a damsel bold That will be found, mayhap before we seek ; Thou art a lady, coy, yet not so cold, Tall and erect, though modest, yet not weak. Thou art not lively in thy bashful mood, Fearing the guile of selfish solitude, Content of many sisters to be one. I cannot look upon thee, delicate plant, To give thy beauties and thy meanings room. What time the Fairies made their orbs of green, When eve of May, and all its wizard spells, Was aye succeeded by the glad May morn, The pendant Cowslip, with its silent bells, Adorn'd the pole by village maidens borne. When London yet was but a scatter'd town, Let out their tripping girls to gather flowers. Ah! surely it had been a lovely sight To see them trooping, ere the sun was high, Back to their frugal homes with garlands dight Of Cowslips pale, in sweetness doom'd to die. The ruddier daughters of the hamlet oft With balls of Cowslips pelted one another, Or heap'd the hay, so flowery, sweet, and soft, With fragrant load some panting nymph to VOL. II. smother. H Maybe, these frolics of the antique age Were all too rude, meek lady-flower, for thee: Methinks thy fittest doom, on holy page Of book devout, to fade in sanctity; Where pious woman oft is wont to read, And seeing thy pale relics, stops to pray, That, like the virgin daughter of the mead, She may be sweet, and hallow'd in decay. July 13, 1844. |