Flowers—Well—if anybody

Flowers—well, if anybody

Can the ecstacy define,

Half a transport, half a trouble,

With which flowers humble men—

Anybody find the fountain,

From which floods so contra flow,

I will give him all the Daisies,

Which upon the hill-side blow!

Too much pathos in their faces,

For a simple breast like mine!

Butterflies from San Domingo,

Cruising round the purple line,

Have a system of esthetics

Far superior to mine!