LONDON, 1802. MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour: Have forfeited their ancient English dower 5 Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : So didst thou travel on life's common way, TO THE DAISY. WITH little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming Common-place 5 10 Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees, Thoughts of thy raising: And many a fond and idle name I give to thee, for praise or blame, As is the humour of the game, While I am gazing. 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 Staring to threaten and defy, That thought comes next—and instantly The shape will vanish-and behold A silver shield with boss of gold, That spreads itself some faery bold I see thee glittering from afar— And then thou art a pretty star, 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! Bright Flower! for by that name at last, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature! That breath'st with me in sun and air, Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature! 25 30 35 40 45 THE SMALL CELANDINE. [A LESSON.] THERE is a Flower, the lesser Celandine, That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain; Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again! When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarm, 5 Or blasts the green field and the trees distrest, Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm, In close self-shelter, like a Thing at rest. But lately, one rough day, this Flower I passed, 10 And recognized it, though an altered form, I stopped, and said with inly-muttered voice, "It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold: This neither is its courage nor its choice, 15 But its necessity in being old. The sunshine may not cheer it, nor the dew; It cannot help itself in its decay; Stiff in its members, withered, changed of hue." And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was grey. 20 To be a Prodigal's Favourite-then, worse truth, A Miser's Pensioner-behold our lot! O Man, that from thy fair and shining youth Age might but take the things Youth needed not! TO SLEEP. A FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by, I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth? 5 10 |