Linnæus laughed, “may make the pedants writhe;

But I would sooner take three slaps from Priscian

Than one from Mother Nature.”

Ancient books

Had made their pretty pattern of the world.

They had named and labelled all their flowers by rote,

Grouping them in a little man-made scheme

Empty of true significance as the wheel

Of stars that Egypt turned for her dead kings.

His was the very life-stream of the flowers;