Maiden-pinks, of odour faint;

Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, 5

And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, first-born child of Ver,

Merry spring-time’s harbinger,

With her bells dim;

Oxlips in their cradles growing, 10

Marigolds on death-beds blowing,

Lark-heels trim;

All, dear Nature’s children sweet,