The Land of
A Wild Flower
for the Aconite, first of the year,
for the Buttercup, able to hold Dewdrop
and rain in its chalice of gold.
for the Cowslip, sweet joy of the spring;
When cowslips are blooming the nightingales sing.
for the Daisy, white star of the grass,
Lifting its bright eye to us as we pass.
for the Eglantine, lovely wild rose,
Sheds fragrance of sweetbrair where - ever it grows.
for the Foxglove, the sentinel tall,
Guarding the forest from summer to fall.
for the Gorse of rich golden delight;
Linnaeus went down on his knees at the sight.
for the Harebell, so fragile, yet strong,
The dear little Blue Bells of Scotland in song.
for the Iris which grows by the stream,
The Flower of the Rainbow, how golden its gleam !
for St John’s Wort, of medical fame,
Balm of the Warrior’s Wound was its name.
for the Kingcup that loves marshy fields,
And glorious the harvest of gold that it yields!
for the Ling, the dear flower of the heath,
How tender its colour, how fragrant its breath!
for the Meadowsweet, pleasant and rare
Is the perfume with which it enchanteth the air!
for the Nightshade, or Bittersweet, flower,
With its berries and blossoms of poisonous power.
for the Oxlip, a flower that you’ll find
When cowslips and orchids in posies you bind.
for the Primrose, recalling to sight
Paths in the woodland a- shimmer with light.
for the Quaking grass, name that it takes
From the way it unceasingly shivers and shakes.
for the Rest-harrow, staying the plough,
Food for the gentle-eyed, ruminant cow.
for the Speedwell, tenderest blue;
From the skies it has taken its exquisite hue.
for the traveller’s Joy that you’ll find
Where sweet sheltering hedgerows wander and wind.
for the Upright Sea-lavender flower;
The sand-swallows claim it for sheltering bower.
for the Violet, flower of the soul,
Heart’s-ease of Paradise, making us whole.
for windflower, so fair to the sight,
That throws o’er the woodlands her mantle of light.
Forms a cross in the Passion- flower wild
In Southern America, balmy and mild.
for the Yarrow, all wayfarers know,
As it grows by the wayside where ever you go.
is the ribbon this posy to bind,
With the thoughts and the fragrance
it brings to your mind.
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