Flowers

The daisy scatter'd on each mead and down,     A golden tuft within a silver crown;     (Fair fall that dainty flower! and may there be     No shepherd grac'd that doth not honour thee!)     The primrose, when with six leaves gotten grace     Maids as a true-love in their bosoms place;     The spotless lily, by whose pure leaves be     Noted the chaste thoughts of virginity;     Carnations sweet with colour like the fire,     The fit impresas for inflam'd desire;     The harebell for her stainless azur'd hue     Claims to be worn of none but those are true;     The rose, like ready youth, enticing stands,     And would be cropp'd if it might choose the hands,     The yellow kingcup Flora them assign'd     To be the badges of a jealous mind;     The orange-tawny marigold: the night     Hides not her colour from a searching sight....     The columbine in tawny often taken,     Is then ascrib'd to such as are forsaken;     Flora's choice buttons of a russet dye     Is hope even in the depth of misery.     From Britannia's Pastorals.