 | The Vale of Arden and Other Poems |  |
66
TO THE COWSLIP
Of all spring joys, the dearest is
To drink thy breath again,
Freshest of flowers;
The bluebell lights the copse,
The primrose paves the glen,
But thy frank beauty overtops
In open fields
The new-born grass, to meet the kiss
Of sun and wind and showers,
And yields
Spring's essence from those five red drops
That dyed the breast of Imogen.
To drink thy breath again,
Freshest of flowers;
The bluebell lights the copse,
The primrose paves the glen,
But thy frank beauty overtops
In open fields
The new-born grass, to meet the kiss
Of sun and wind and showers,
And yields
Spring's essence from those five red drops
That dyed the breast of Imogen.
67
Sun-freckled art thou, as the child
Who kneeleth down to snap
Thy sturdy stem,
And fill with thy pure gold
Her snowy-aproned lap,
White treasury of wealth untold;
Deftly she makes,
In bountiful profusion piled,
A regal ball of them,
And takes
For sceptre one that high doth hold
His head in pride of April sap.
Who kneeleth down to snap
Thy sturdy stem,
And fill with thy pure gold
Her snowy-aproned lap,
White treasury of wealth untold;
Deftly she makes,
In bountiful profusion piled,
A regal ball of them,
And takes
For sceptre one that high doth hold
His head in pride of April sap.
My earliest love of flowers, how good
To lay my sunburnt face
In grass so lush
It shames the name of green,
And fold in one embrace
The clustered heads of all I glean,
And kiss the pure
Warm lips of that fair sisterhood,
Or 'mid their golden flush
Immure
The splendour of some cowslip queen
Who reigned apart in loftier grace.
To lay my sunburnt face
In grass so lush
It shames the name of green,
And fold in one embrace
The clustered heads of all I glean,
68
Warm lips of that fair sisterhood,
Or 'mid their golden flush
Immure
The splendour of some cowslip queen
Who reigned apart in loftier grace.
Then home to sleep by Avon stream,
Cheered by the honest wine
Of cowslip flowers;
So pure a draught alone
Gives slumber so divine;
All night I breathe the sweet air blown
O'er fields thick starred
With cowslip constellations, dream
Of gold-embrasured towers
That guard
Some fay for whom the bees make moan,
While cowslips by my cheek recline.
Cheered by the honest wine
Of cowslip flowers;
So pure a draught alone
Gives slumber so divine;
All night I breathe the sweet air blown
O'er fields thick starred
With cowslip constellations, dream
Of gold-embrasured towers
That guard
Some fay for whom the bees make moan,
While cowslips by my cheek recline.
| The Vale of Arden and Other Poems | |