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Thus spake the moral Muse
Abruptly spreading to depart,
Memento for some docile heart;
That may respect the good old Age When Fancy was Truth's willing Page; And Truth would skim the flowery glade, Though entering but as Fancy's Shade.
TO THE DAISY.
WITH little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Thou unassuming Common-place
Which Love makes for thee!
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
Loose types of Things through all degrees,
Thoughts of thy raising:
many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game,
A Nun demure, of lowly port;
Or sprightly Maiden, of Love's Court,
Of all temptations;
A Queen in crown of rubies drest;
Are all, as seems to suit thee best,
A little Cyclops, with one eye
That thought comes next—and instantly
The shape will vanish, and behold
That spreads itself, some Faery bold
I see thee glittering from afar;
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee!
Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;
May peace come never to his nest,
Who shall reprove thee!
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past,
I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
Sweet silent Creature!
That breath'st with me in sun and air,
My heart with gladness, and a share
TO THE SAME FLOWER.
BRIGHT flower, whose home is every
A Pilgrim bold in Nature's care,
And oft, the long year through, the heir
Of joy or sorrow,
Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,
Given to no other Flower I see
The forest thorough!
And wherefore? Man is soon deprest;
Or on his reason;
But Thou would'st teach him how to find
A shelter under every wind,
A hope for times that are unkind
And every season.