Wild honey from various thyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

Honouring this lesser feast my shrines I spread
With the unfragrant violet, and rehearse,
Plucking the small grape-hyacinth for thyrse,
My exultation that, tho' earth's low bed
Hath never been of flesh untenanted,
Forever taking leave, bowed by Time's curse,
Bowing to doom, for better and for worse,
Deep married to their breath men have the dead.
Without them were no god, no crownèd king,
No feast, no fair procession; they abide.
Bosomed by them the petals disappear
Frail on the wind; they are with every spring:
Though something keep us from them, though they hide,
May be forever hidden, they are near.