TO THE DAISY. In youth from rock to rock I went, Most pleas'd when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make, VOL. I. When soothed a while by milder airs, Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly shades his few grey hairs; Spring cannot shun thee; Whole summer fields are thine by right; Doth in thy crimson head delight In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the Traveller in the lane; If welcome once thou count'st it gain; Thou art not daunted, Nor car'st if thou be set at naught; And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted. Be Violets in their secret mews The flowers the wanton Zephyrs chuse ; Proud be the Rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling; Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; If to a rock from rains he fly, Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare; Thou art! a Friend at hand, to scare His melancholy. |