WILD FLOWERS. A FILBERT-EDGE with wild-brier overtwined, That with a score of bright-green brethren shoots Round which is heard a spring head of clear waters, By infant hands, left on the path to die. Ye ardent marigolds ! Dry up the moisture from your golden lids, For great Apollo bids That in these days your praises should be sung KEATS. LABURNUM, rich In streaming gold; syringa, iv'ry pure; The lilac, various in array, now white, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set With purple spikes pyramidal, as if, Studious of ornament, yet unresolved Which hue she most approved, she chose them all; Copious of flowers the woodbine, pale and wan, But well compensating her sickly looks With never-cloying odours, early and late. COWPER. |