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When windows flap, and chimney roars,
window one by one
and their Mother's breast !
TO THE DAISY.
“ Her* divine skill taught me this,
youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill, in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleased when most uneasy ;
. His Muse.
But now my own delights I make,
Of thee, sweet Daisy !
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; And Autumn, melancholy Wight ! Doth in thy crimson head delight
When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the Traveller in the lane ; If welcomed 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
Her head impearling ;
The Poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly,
Near the green holly,
A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Some steady love; some brief delight;
Or stray invention
If stately passions in me burn,
A lowlier pleasure ;
Of hearts at leisure.
When, smitten by the morning ray,
With kindred gladness :
Of careful sadness.