Rejoicing all in summer’s carnival:
How kind of them to deck the shepherd’s cot,
And with their presence cheer his humble lot!
I love ye, flowers; your odors ever bring
Back visions of the past: I love ye well;
From the lone Primrose, nursling of the Spring,
Unto the beauteous Aster, Autumn’s belle,
Or reared on verdant field, or ruined wall,
I love ye all, sweet flowers!—I love ye all!