Ref.: C. 99, L. 210, B. 207, S.P. 69, P. 48 and 139, B. ii. 51, T. 82 and 294, P. iv. 12, P. v. 156.—W. 72, N. 69, V. 205.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
The original of this quatrain is found in O. 43.
Everywhere that there has been a rose or tulip bed,
It has come from the redness of the blood of a king;
Every violet shoot that grows from the earth
Is a mole[41] that was (once) upon the cheek of a beauty.
Ref.: O. 43, C. 47, L. 110, B. 106, B. ii. 105, T. 304, P. v. 159.—W. 104, E.C. 4, V. 109.
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River-lip on which we lean—
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
The original of this quatrain was C. 44.