W. B. Yeats.
60. THE FLOWERS
Buy English posies!
Kent and Surrey may—
Violets of the Undercliff
Wet with Channel spray;
Cowslips from a Devon combe—
Midland furze afire—
Buy my English posies,
And I'll sell your heart's desire!
Buy my English posies!
You that scorn the may,
Won't you greet a friend from home
Half the world away?
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Green against the draggled drift,
Faint and frail and first—
Buy my Northern blood-root
And I'll know where you were nursed;
Robin down the logging-road whistles, "Come to me!"
Spring has found the maple-grove, the sap is running free;
All the winds of Canada call the ploughing-rain.
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
Buy my English posies!
Here's to match your need—
Buy a tuft of royal heath,
Buy a bunch of weed
White as sand of Muysenberg
Spun before the gale—
Buy my heath and lilies
And I'll tell you whence you hail!
Under hot Constantia broad the vineyards lie—
Throned and thorned the aching berg props the speckless sky—
Slow below the Wynberg firs trails the tilted wain—
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again.
Buy my English posies!
You that will not turn—
Buy my hot-wood clematis
Buy a frond o' fern