 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
144
LINNÆUS.
Fresh Nature, gentle nurse, we run to theeWith all the love of childhood's innocent heart,
Hiding from those dull works and ways of art,
Glad to escape their schooling, and be free;
O fairy landscape,—fields and wooded hills,
Green valleys, mirror'd lakes and sunny rills,
Young flowers, and blushing fruits, and tufted groves,
How Eden-like a home of peace are ye,
Peopled with angel-guests, and infant loves!
So companied, and in a scene so sweet,
High summer's gorgeous tribute would we bring,
And lay them, priest of Nature, at thy feet,
While their white bells the wedded lilies ring,
And kissing roses a Linnæus greet.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |