Spring Flowers

Spring Flowers

Bowing adorers of the gale,
Ye cowslips delicately pale,

Upraise your loaded stems;

Unfold your cups in splendor, speak!
Who decked you with that ruddy streak,

And gilt your golden gems?

Violets, sweet tenants of the shade,
In purple's richest pride arrayed,

Your errand here fulfill;

Go, bid the artist's simple stain
Your lustre imitate, in vain,

And match your Maker's skill.

Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth,
Embroiders of the carpet earth,

That stud the velvet earth,

Open to spring's refreshing air,
In sweetest smiling bloom declare,

Your Maker, and my God.

Clark

3:25, p. 4

1839.08.31

From the London Weekly Chronicle