Minuscula Lyrics of Nature, Art and Love. By Francis William Bourdillon |
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Corydalis |
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18
Corydalis
There is a little plant that weaves
About the withered gorse its leaves
Upon the Malvern Hills;
And lifts a tiny tuft of flowers,
To take the sunshine and the showers,
The heats and dewy chills.
About the withered gorse its leaves
Upon the Malvern Hills;
And lifts a tiny tuft of flowers,
To take the sunshine and the showers,
The heats and dewy chills.
We may not think a soul is there,
Nor courage, though it seems to dare
The rains, the early snows;
Nor patience, though so late it clings,
Nor pity for unhappier things,
Though round rough stems it grows.
Nor courage, though it seems to dare
The rains, the early snows;
Nor patience, though so late it clings,
Nor pity for unhappier things,
Though round rough stems it grows.
Nor any joy to be admired,
Nor soft desire to be desired,
Although so fair it be.
Yet, gentle maid, I pray thee make
A parable hereof, and take
This fable unto thee!
Nor soft desire to be desired,
Although so fair it be.
Yet, gentle maid, I pray thee make
A parable hereof, and take
This fable unto thee!
| Minuscula | |