Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/314

But in the paths we daily tread, and in the poor man's way,
The flow'rets lie, whose looks, whose names, are far more sweet than they;
The Primrose gem-like, 'mid its leaves, and she whose heaven blue eye
Repeats the lesson it hath learnt from the pure changeless sky!

There clustering like wreathèd pearls, like ocean's foam-white spray.
It blooms for every hand and eye, the almond-scented May;
Fragrant and wild 'mid bosky dells the faint, pale Woodbines wreathe,
And shed their store of honey-dews for all that live and breathe.

A palm-like coronet, the Fern waves green 'neath hedge-rows lone,
The Cherry gleams within the woods, the Chestnut rears its cone;
The Furze breaks like an odorous flame o'er waste and upland wold,
And o'er each silent, ruined place the Wall-flower scatters gold.

And many a humble garden owns the flowers we love the best.
Whose aspects weave a gentle spell by every heart confest;