 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
THE PRIMROSE.
I Saw it in my evening walk,
A little lonely flower!
Under a hollow bank it grew,
Deep in a mossy bower.
A little lonely flower!
Under a hollow bank it grew,
Deep in a mossy bower.
An oak's gnarled root, to roof the cave
With Gothic fretwork sprung,
Whence jewelled fern, and arum leaves,
And ivy garlands hung.
With Gothic fretwork sprung,
Whence jewelled fern, and arum leaves,
And ivy garlands hung.
And from beneath came sparkling out
From a fallen tree's old shell,
A little rill, that clipt about
The lady in her cell.
From a fallen tree's old shell,
A little rill, that clipt about
The lady in her cell.
And there, methought, with bashful pride,
She seemed to sit and look
On her own maiden loveliness
Pale imaged in the brook.
She seemed to sit and look
On her own maiden loveliness
Pale imaged in the brook.
No other flower—no rival grew
Beside my pensive maid;
She dwelt alone, a cloistered nun,
In solitude and shade.
Beside my pensive maid;
She dwelt alone, a cloistered nun,
In solitude and shade.
No sunbeam on that fairy well
Darted its dazzling light—
Only, methought, some clear, cold star
Might tremble there at night.
Darted its dazzling light—
301
Might tremble there at night.
No ruffling wind could reach her there—
No eye, methought, but mine,
Or the young lamb's that came to drink,
Had spied her secret shrine.
No eye, methought, but mine,
Or the young lamb's that came to drink,
Had spied her secret shrine.
And there was pleasantness to me
In such belief. Cold eyes
That slight dear Nature's lowliness,
Profane her mysteries.
In such belief. Cold eyes
That slight dear Nature's lowliness,
Profane her mysteries.
Long time I looked and lingered there,
Absorbed in still delight—
My spirit drank deep quietness
In, with that quiet sight.
Absorbed in still delight—
My spirit drank deep quietness
In, with that quiet sight.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |