The Cowslips

The dancing Cowslips come in pleasant hours;

Though seldom sung, they're everybody's flowers:

They hurry from the world, and leave the cold;

And all the meadows turn from green to gold:

The shepherd finds them where he went to play,

And wears a nosegay in his mouth all day:

The maiden finds them in the pleasant grove,

And puts them in her bosom with her love;

She loves the ladysmocks: and just beyond

The water blobs close to the meadow-pond.

I've often gone — about where blackthorns stood —

And got the Bedlam-Cowslips in the wood;

Then found the blackbird's nest, and noisy jay

And up and threw the Cowslips all away!

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