_Author of Minstrel Melodies, The Garland, &c._
COWSLIPS--sweet Cowslips! I scarce know a flower
More prized than is the cowslip. Childhood's hand
Plucks it as if by instinct. Every land
Has some peculiar flowret--this the bower,
The mountain that adorning. April's shower
The modest primrose sifts with beauty bland,
Or o'er the blue-bell waves her fairy wand,
The delegate of Flora's magic power.
But most love I the cowslip, with its fair
And fragrant petals, studding, as with gold,
The emerald meadow, or the hedge-row green;
For, while the laugh of Infancy is there,
The heart must be as very marble cold
Of him who frowns on such a joyous scene.
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The Naturalist,
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