EUPHRASIA OFFICINALIS, OR EYE-BRIGHT. THERE is a flower, a tiny flower, It is the little Euphrasy, Which you no doubt have often seen And maybe now it hath no more THE COWSLIP. LADY, beyond the wide Atlantic main Huge trees hast thou beheld, and gorgeous flowers, The simple posies of this isle of ours; Declines her head; the lady of the land, That must be public, fain would be conceal'd, And her pure perfume must be known full well And therefore do I give the flower to thee, THE COWSLIP AND THE LARK. My pretty lady Cowslip! prim and shy, And thou, bold Lark! thou shivering voice on high! Why wilt thou not, my merry bird, advance, The brave bird of the sky and flow'ret 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, And hast thou ventured so far north away? 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 lonely 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, Maybe, these frolics of the antique age Were all too rude, meek lady-flower, for thee: Methinks thy fittest doom, in holy page Of book devout, to fade in sanctity; |