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Poems by Hartley Coleridge

With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes

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92

EUPHRASIA OFFICINALIS, OR EYE-BRIGHT.

There is a flower, a tiny flower,
Its hue is white, but close within 't
There is a spot of golden tint,
Therein abides a wondrous juice,
That hath, for such as know its use,
A sweet and holy power.
It is the little Euphrasy,
Which you no doubt have often seen
Mid the tall grass of meadow green;
But never deem'd so wee a wight
Endow'd with medicinal might
To clear the darken'd eye.
And maybe now it hath no more
The virtue which the kindly fays
Bestow'd in fancy's holy days;
Yet still the gold-eyed weedie springs,
To show how pretty little things
Were hallow'd long of yore.