Frail wind-flowers fluttered, red and pale:
The Violet and the Primrose dame,
With modest mien but hearts a-flame:
Green kirtled from the brooklet’s fold,
The rustic maid Marsh Marigold:
The “Lady smocks all silver white”
The milkmaids of the meadows bright,
Where shining Buttercups abound
Among the Cowslips on the ground.
Here, Lords and Ladies of the wood,