There, if beneath the gorse the primrose spring,
Or the pied daisy smile below the ling,
They shall new charms, at thy command, disclose,
And none shall miss the myrtle or the rose.
The wiry moss, that whitens all the hill,
Shall live a beauty by thy matchless skill;
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Gale[26] from the bog shall yield Arabian balm,
And the grey willow wave a golden palm.
"I see thee smiling in the pictured room,