Poems, and a tragedy By William Julius Mickle |
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STANZAS. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY STUDIOUS OF BOTANY. |
 | Poems, and a tragedy |  |
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STANZAS. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY STUDIOUS OF BOTANY.
Say, gentle Lady of the bower,
For thou, though young, art wise,
And known to thee is every flower
Beneath our milder skies:
For thou, though young, art wise,
And known to thee is every flower
Beneath our milder skies:
Say, which the Plant of modest dye,
And lovely mien combin'd,
That fittest to the pensive eye
Displays the virtuous mind.
And lovely mien combin'd,
That fittest to the pensive eye
Displays the virtuous mind.
I sought the groves where Innocence
Methought might long reside;
But April's blossoms banish'd thence,
Gave Summer, Flora's pride.
Methought might long reside;
But April's blossoms banish'd thence,
Gave Summer, Flora's pride.
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I sought the garden's boasted haunt,
But on the gay partere
Carnations glow, and tulips flaunt,
No humble flowret there.
But on the gay partere
Carnations glow, and tulips flaunt,
No humble flowret there.
The flower you seek, the Nymph replies,
Has bow'd the languid head;
For on its bloom the blazing skies
Their sultry rage have shed.
Has bow'd the languid head;
For on its bloom the blazing skies
Their sultry rage have shed.
'Tis now the downward withering day,
Of Winter's dull presage,
That seeks not where the Dog-stars ray,
Has shed his fiercest rage.
Of Winter's dull presage,
That seeks not where the Dog-stars ray,
Has shed his fiercest rage.
Yet search yon shade, obscure forlorn,
Where rude the bramble grows;
There shaded by the humble thorn,
The lingering Primrose blows.
Where rude the bramble grows;
There shaded by the humble thorn,
The lingering Primrose blows.
| Poems, and a tragedy | |