Page:Flowers of Loveliness.pdf/26



The Poet and the Flower repay What each the other yields; He loiters on his twilight way, Amid the summer fields, Delighting in the lovely things That round his pathway gleam While over them his spirit flings A music and a dream.

He of the Avon’s gentle wave Was conscious of his power; Was he not happy, when he gave His fancy to that flower, And left a vision of delight Amid its folded leaves?— A vision delicate and bright, Which every heart receives.

His lot was what the Poet’s lot Has ever been on earth; Yet toil and trouble were forgot In one enchanted birth. That little purple flower imparts A pleasure deep and true; Then he bequeaths to other hearts The joy that first he knew.

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 * Illustrating a fanciful picture of a youthful poet.