Field Flowers.

Ye who courtly beauty prize,1
                        
                        Cast not here your scornful eyes—2
                        
                        Nature’s lowly children we,3
                        
                        Bred on bank, in brake, on lea4
                        
                        By the meadow runlet’s brink,5
                        
                        In the tall cliffs craggy chink ;6
                        
                        On the sea-shore’s arid shingle,7
                        
                        On bleak moor, in bosky dingle ;8
                        
                        On old tower and ruin’d wall,9
                        
                        By the sparkling waterfall.10
                        Not a hue of gaudier glow,11
                        
                        Not a streak to art we owe :12
                        
                        Never hand but nature’s own,13
                        
                        ( “ Nature’s sweet and cunning one,”)14
                        
                        Hath imparted charm or grace15
                        
                        To our unaspiring race.16
                        
                        All her elements of might,17
                        
                        Common air, and common light ;—18
                        
                        Shower and sunshine, mist and dew,19
                        
                        And his labourers, (blithe ones too !)20
                        
                        All unhired for love she finds,21
                        
                        Bees, and birds, and wandering winds.22
                        Courtly scorners !  not for ye23
                        
                        Bloom our tribes of low degree.24
                        
                        Stately Aloe, Tuberose tall,25
                        
                        Finely decks baronial hall ;26
                        
                        Flaunting in exotic pride,27
                        
                        (Sculptured nymph or fawn beside,)28
                        
                        From marble vase on terrace wide—29
                        
                        Where jewell’d robes sweep rustling  
by,30
                        
                        by,30
And lordly idlers lounge and sigh—31
                        
                        There intrude not such as we,32
                        
                        Commoners of low degree.33
                        
                        Yet have we our lovers too,34
                        
                        Hearts to holy nature true,35
                        
                        
                        Such as find in all her ways36
                        
                        Objects for delight and praise,37
                        
                        From the Cedar, straight and tall,38
                        
                        To the Hyssop on the wall.39
                        Favour’d mortals !  to your eyes40
                        
                        All unveil’d an Eden lies41
                        
                        Hidden from the worldlings view.42
                        
                        Wells of water gush for you,43
                        
                        Where his sealed sight can spy44
                        
                        Nought but dull aridity.45
                        
                        Hither come—to you we’ll tell46
                        
                        Where our sweetest sisters dwell ;47
                        
                        Show you every secret cell48
                        
                        Where the coy take sanctuary,49
                        
                        “ Pale maids that unmarried die.”50
                        
                        Primroses ;  and paler yet51
                        
                        Th’ unstain’d, odorous Violet.52
                        
                        Hither come, and you shall see53
                        
                        Where the loveliest Lilies be ;54
                        
                        They through forest vistas gleaming,55
                        
                        (Azure clouds of heaven’s own seem-
ing)—56
                        
                        ing)—56
They, their snowy heads that hide57
                        
                        Cowering by the coppice side ;58
                        
                        They that stand in nodding ranks59
                        
                        All along the river’s banks,60
                        
                        Golden Daffodils :  and they61
                        
                        (Brightest of the bright array !)62
                        
                        With a swan-like grace that glide,63
                        
                        Anchor’d on the waveless tide.64
                        
                        These, and flowery myriads more,65
                        
                        All their charms (a countless store),66
                        
                        All their sweets shall yield to thee,67
                        
                        Nature’s faithful votary.68
                        Though we grace not lordly halls,69
                        
                        Yet, on rustic festivals,70
                        
                        
Who than we are fitlier seen71
                        
                        Flaunting o’er the village green ?72
                        
                        Many a ’kerchief deck we there,73
                        
                        Many a maiden’s nut-brown hair ;74
                        
                        Many a straw-hat, plaited neat75
                        
                        By shepherd boy, we make complete76
                        
                        With Cowslip cark’net. Then, to see77
                        
                        With what an air, how jauntily,78
                        
                        On his curl’d pate ’tis stuck awry79
                        
                        To snare some cottage beauty’s eye.80
                        Joyous childhood, roving free,81
                        
                        With our sweet Bells greedily82
                        
                        Both his chubby hands doth fill ;83
                        
                        Welcome plunderer !  pluck at will.84
                        
                        Nature’s darling !  dear to thee,85
                        
                        More than costlier sweets are we :86
                        
                        Pluck at will, enough to deck,87
                        
                        Boy !  thy favourite lambkin’s neck.88
                        Pineth some pale wretch away89
                        
                        In prison cell, where cheerful day90
                        
                        Only through the deep-set bars91
                        
                        Beams obliquely ;  and the stars92
                        
                        Scarce can glance a pitying eye93
                        
                        On the poor soul’s misery ;94
                        
                        Haply on some lodgment nigh,95
                        
                        
                        Mossy bastion’s mouldering edge,96
                        
                        Loophole chink, or grating ledge,97
                        
                        One of us (some fragrant thing)98
                        
                        Taketh stand, and thence doth fling99
                        
                        On the kind air soft perfume100
                        
                        Down to that dark prison-room—101
                        
                        Entering, with the balmy gale,102
                        
                        Thoughts of some dear native vale,103
                        
                        Some sweet home by mountain stream,104
                        
                        On the captive’s soul may gleam ;105
                        
                        Wafting him in fondest dream106
                        
                        To the grass plat far away,107
                        
                        Where his little children play.108
                        On the poor man’s grave we’re found,109
                        
                        Honouring the unhonour’d ground.110
                        
                        To the grave—the grave for aye,111
                        
                        Reverential dues we pay.112
                        
                        When all thought hath pass’d away113
                        
                        From all living, long ago114
                        
                        Of the dust that sleeps below :—115
                        
                        From the sunken hillock gone,116
                        
                        E’en the cold memorial stone ;—117
                        
                        Unforsaking, we alone,118
                        
                        Year by year, fresh tribute spread119
                        
                        O’er the long-forgotten dead.120