EUPHRASIA OFFICINALIS, OR EYE-BRIGHT.

THERE is a flower, a tiny flower,

Its hue is white, but close within 't

There is a spot of golden tint,

Therein abides a wondrous juice,

That hath, for such as know its use,

A sweet and holy power.

It is the little Euphrasy,

Which you no doubt have often seen
Mid the tall grass of meadow green;
But never deem'd so wee a wight
Endow'd with medicinal might

To clear the darken'd eye.

And maybe now it hath no more
The virtue which the kindly fays
Bestow'd in fancy's holy days;

Yet still the gold-eyed weedie springs,
To show how pretty little things
Were hallow'd long of yore.

THE COWSLIP.

LADY, beyond the wide Atlantic main

Huge trees hast thou beheld, and gorgeous flowers, And

poor may be to thee, and dim, and plain

The simple posies of this isle of ours;
Yet, lady, humbly I present to thee
A flower refined in her simplicity.
The lady cowslip, that, amid the grass,
Is tall and comely as a virgin queen.
The primrose is a bonny peasant lass,
The bold and full-blown beauty of the green;
She seems on mossy bank, in forest glade,
Most meet to be the cowslip's waiting maid.
But the coy cowslip-coy, though doom'd to stand
In state erect upon the open field-

Declines her head, the lady of the land
That must be public, fain would be conceal'd,
Knowing how much she ought to all impart,
Yet much retaining with an artless art;

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,
Dress'd in the vernal garb of Roman bride,
I wish thee sometimes in a long road-side
My solitary dream to purify.

And thou, bold lark! thou shivering voice on high !
Invisible warbler of the blue expanse!

Why wilt thou not, my merry bird, advance,
And glad Winander with thy minstrelsy?
The fancy sweet of Persia feign'd the love
Of the voluptuous rose and nightingale.
And Kent flows on,—the merry lark above
And the meek cowslip bending in the vale ;—
What if there be mysterious love between

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,
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 lively in thy bashful mood,
But rather, like a sweet devoted Nun,
Fearing the guile of selfish solitude,

Content of many sisters to be one.

I cannot look upon thee, delicate plant,
Nor taste the gentleness of thy perfume,
And not conceive the living world too scant

To give thy beauties and thy meanings room.