Like a purple beech among the greens
Looks out of place.
—Edwin Morris.
Or
Delays as the tender ash delays To clothe herself, when all the woods are green.
—The Princess.
As black as ash-buds in the front of March.
—The Gardener’s Daughter.
A gusty April morn
That puff’d the swaying branches into smoke.
—Holy Grail.
So with flowers, trees, birds and insects:—
The fox-glove clusters dappled bells.
—The Two Voices.
The sunflower:—
Rays round with flame its disk of seed.
—In Memoriam.
The dog-rose:—
Tufts of rosy-tinted snow.
—Two Voices.
A million emeralds break from the ruby-budded lime.
—Maud.
In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell
Divides threefold to show the fruit within.
—The Brook.
Or of a chrysalis:—