To The Same Flower [A]

Composed 1802.--Published 1807

[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.-I. F.]

One of the "Poems of the Fancy."--Ed.

With little here to do or see Of things that in the great world be, Daisy! again I talk to thee, For thou art worthy, Thou unassuming Common-place Of Nature, with that homely face, And yet with something of a grace, Which Love makes for thee!

Oft on the dappled turf at ease I sit, and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees, Thoughts of thy raising: And many a fond and idle name I give to thee, for praise or blame, As is the humour of the game, While I am gazing.

A nun demure of lowly port; Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, In thy simplicity the sport Of all temptations; A queen in crown of rubies drest; A starveling in a scanty vest; Are all, as seems to suit thee best, Thy appellations.

A little cyclops, with one eye Staring to threaten and defy, That thought comes next--and instantly The freak is over, The shape will vanish--and behold A silver shield with boss of gold, That spreads itself, some faery bold In fight to cover!

I see thee glittering from afar-- And then thou art a pretty star; Not quite so fair as many are In heaven above thee! Yet like a star, with glittering crest, Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;-- May peace come never to his nest, Who shall reprove thee!

Bright Flower! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature! That breath'st with me in sun and air, Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature!

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