Flowers—Well—if anybody

Flowers—well, if anybody Can the ecstacy define, Half a transport, half a trouble, With which flowers humble men— Anybody find the fountain, From which floods so contra flow, I will give him all the Daisies, Which upon the hill-side blow !

Too much pathos in their faces, For a simple breast like mine ! Butterflies from San Domingo, Cruising round the purple line, Have a system of esthetics Far superior to mine !