The childless cannot speak!
The inimitable Wordsworth, with the garrulity of a nurse, fondling a beloved infant, lavishes on it in a single poem, several endearing appellations, in one verse styling it
A nun demure, of lowly port.
And in another line:
A queen in crown of rubies drest.
And again:
A little Cyclops, with one eye,
Staring to threaten or defy.
The primrose, a beautiful little flower but little known in this country, also has been embalmed in song. Milton introduces it in terms of endearment, “the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,” as if its little heart was too gentle to withstand alone the rude shocks of the world.
The violet seems to have been a favorite flower with this author, when he says,