'Linné selected a tiny wild-flower that he discovered, of exquisite beauty and delicious odour, to bear his name—one that refuses to exchange the silent glen and melancholy wood for the more gay parterres of horticulture.'—Rambles in Sweden and Gottland, by Sylvanus.
'Tis a child of the old green woodlands,
Where the song of the free wild bird,
And swaying of boughs in the summer breeze,
Are the only voices heard.
In the richest moss of the lonely dells
Are its rosy petals found,
With the clear blue skies above it spread,
And the lordly trees around.