Flowers for
spring, summer, and autumn, while even in the very depth of winter here
and there one makes its appearance. There are flowers of the fields and
woods and hedgerows, of the seashore and the lake's margin, of the
mountain-side up to the very edge of the eternal snow.
And what an infinite variety they present.
"Daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one." [5]
Nor are they mere delights to the eye; they are full of mystery and
suggestions. They almost seem like enchanted princesses waiting for some
princely deliverer. Wordsworth tells us that
"To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
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