The wind blows, and uplifts thy drooping banner,
And around thee throng and run
The rushes, the green yeomen of thy manor—
The outlaws of the sun.
O fleur-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river
Linger to kiss thy feet;
O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever
The world more fair and sweet.
Nat. Ord. Ericaceæ.