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.