It was well grassed, and delicate flowers grew in the middle of the road.
I saw a delicate flower had grown up two feet high
Between the horses’ path and the wheel-track,
Which Dakin’s and Maynard’s wagons had
Passed over many a time.
An inch more to right or left had sealed its fate,
Or an inch higher. And yet it lived and flourished
As much as if it had a thousand acres
Of untrodden space around it, and never
Knew the danger it incurred.