Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

See Hieracium's various tribe,

Of plumy seed and radiate flow'rs,
The course of time their blooms describe,
And wake or sleep appointed hours.

Broad o'er its imbricated cup,

The Goatsbeard spreads its golden rays, But shuts its cautious petals up, Retreating from the noontide blaze.

Pale as a pensive cloister'd nun
The Bethlem-star her face unveils,
When o'er the mountain peers the sun,
But shades it from the vesper gales.

Among the loose and arid sands
The humble Arenaria creeps;
Slowly the purple star expands,
But soon within its calyx sleeps.

And those small bells, so lightly ray'd
In young Aurora's rosy hue,
Are to the noontide sun display'd,

But shut their plaits against the dew.

On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour, when, as the dial true,
Cicharium to the towering lark

Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue.

And thou, "wee crimson-tipped flow'r,”
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round
Thy bosom, at the closing hour,

When night-dews bathe the turfy ground.

Unlike Silena, who declines

The garish noontide's blazing light;
But, when the evening crescent shines,
Gives all her sweetness to the night.

Thus, in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path untrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers, to tell
How fast the winged moments fly.

Time will steal on with ceaseless pace,
Yet lose we not the fleeting hours,
Who still their fairy footsteps trace,
As light they dance among the flowers.

Ulex Europæus.

Whin, or Gorze.

Common Furze.

Diadelphia Decandria.

Calyx shorter than the blossom, with two spear-shaped deciduous scales at the base.

Stems and branches very numerous, deeply furrowed, hairy, and extremely thorny. Spines angular, extremely pungent, smooth. Leaves springing from the base of the spines, solitary, awl-shaped, roughish, deciduous. Calyx sometimes very woolly, but not equally so in all plants. Blossom yellow, half as long again as the calyx, emitting

[graphic][merged small]

E'er lingering winter wings his flight
The gay Peziza springs to light,
Before the throstle's vernal song
Is heard the bursting sprays among,
Or o'er the land the south wind sighs,
And bids the slumb'ring flowers arise.
Lo, bending to the mossy bed,
With all thy crimson cups o'erspread,
The nymph of spring, with rosy lips,
The dew-drop from thy chalice sips,
And pledges in thy ruby bowl

The coming hour, whose mild control
Shall soon array the wintry scene
With flow'ry wreaths and foliage green.

Breathe softly now, ye gentle airs!
Nature her genial feast prepares,
And not within the wine-cup glows
So rich a boon as she bestows.

Come ye, to whom her haunts are known,
And claim her treasures as your own;
Come, and beneath the morning beam,
See how a thousand goblets gleam
With draughts of liquid opal fill'd
From some ethereal urn distill'd,

While every gift the opening day
Unveils before you, seems to say:
Come ye, and in the woods and fields
Drink the pure nectar nature yields.
The feast she spreads is simple, chaste,
It palls not on the wearied taste;
Sweet as Arabia's spicy breeze,
Like fragrant gums of eastern trees,
That long retain their rich perfume,
And spread their odours round the tomb,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »