But, exiled from Australian Bowers, And singleness her lot, She trills her with tutored powers, song Or mocks each casual note. No more of pity for regrets With which she may have striven! Or spite, if cause be given; Arch, volatile, a sportive Bird Ambitious to be seen or heard, This moss-lined shed, green, soft, and dry, Not shunning man's abode, though shy, Strange places, coverts unendeared In which this Child of Spring was reared, Is warmed, thro' winter, by her feathery breast. To the bleak winds she sometimes gives That tells the Hermitess still lives, Though she appear not, and be sought in vain. Say, Dora! tell me by yon placid Moon, VI. TO THE SMALL CELANDINE.* PANSIES, Lilies, Kingcups, Daisies, They will have a place in story:. There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine. Eyes of some men travel far For the finding of a star; Up and down the heavens they go, I'm as great as they, I trow, Like a great Astronomer. * Common Pilewort. Modest, yet withal an Elf Bold, and lavish of thyself; Since we needs must first have met I have seen thee, high and low, Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the Thrush Telling tales about the sun, When we've little warmth, or none. Poets, vain men in their mood! Travel with the multitude: Never heed them; I aver That they all are wanton Wooers; But the thrifty Cottager, Who stirs little out of doors, Spring is coming, Thou art come! Comfort have thou of thy merit, But 'tis good enough for thee. Ill befall the yellow Flowers, Others, too, of lofty mien ; They have done as worldlings do, Taken praise that should be thine, Little, humble Celandine! Prophet of delight and mirth, Scorned and slighted upon earth! Herald of a mighty band, Of a joyous train ensuing, Singing at my heart's command, |