Page:The year's at the spring.djvu/129

 THE • YEAR'S • AT • THE • SPRING

Was overgrown with celandine,

No other folk did travel

Running from house to house.

So all among the vivid blades

Of soft and tender grass

We lay, nor heard the limber wheels

That pass and ever pass,

Seems in itself a battle.

At length we rose up from our ease

Of tranquil happy mind,

And searched the garden's little length

A fresh pleasaunce to find;

Did rest the tired eye.

The fairest and most fragrant

Of the many sweets we found,

Was a little bush of Daphne flower

Upon a grassy mound, 89