O small-feäc'd flow'r that now dost bloom,
To stud wi' white the shallow Frome,
An' leäve the [2]clote to spread his flow'r
On darksome pools o' stwoneless Stour,
When sof'ly-rizèn airs do cool
The water in the sheenèn pool,
Thy beds o' snow white buds do gleam
So feäir upon the sky-blue stream,
As whitest clouds, a-hangèn high
Avore the blueness of the sky.
[Footnote 2: The yellow water-lily.]