And those small bells so lightly rayed
With young Aurora’s rosy hue,
Are to the noontide Sun displayed,
But shut their plaits against the dew.
On upland slopes the shepherds mark
The hour, when, as the dial true,
Cichorium to the towering Lark
Lifts her soft eyes serenely blue.
And thou, “Wee crimson tipped flower,”
Gatherest thy fringed mantle round
Thy bosom, at the closing hour,
When nightdrops bathe the turfy ground,
Unlike Silene, who declines
The garish noontide’s blazing light;
But when the evening crescent shines,
Gives all her sweetness to the night.
Thus in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path betrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers who tell
How fast their winged moments fly.
Dr. Forster remarks that towards the close of this month, the cat’s ear hypochœris radicata is in flower every where; its first appearance is about the 18th day. This plant, as well as the rough dandelion, continues to flower till after Midsummer. The lilac, the barberry tree, the maple, and other trees and shrubs, are also in flower. The meadow grasses are full grown and flowering. The flowers of the garden rose, in early and warm years, begin to open.
On a Young Rosebud in May, from the
German of Goëthe.
A Rose, that bloomed the roadside by,
Caught a young vagrant’s wanton eye:
The child was gay, the morn was clear,
The child would see the rosebud near:
She saw the blooming flow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!
The child exclaimed, “My hands shall dare,
Thee, Rose, from off thy stem to tear:”
The Rose replied, “If I have need,
My thorns shall make thy fingers bleed—
Thy rash design give o’er.”
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that blooms the roadside near!
Regardless of its thorny spray,
The child would tear the Rose away;
The Rose bewailed with sob and sigh,
But all in vain, no help was nigh
To quell the urchin’s pow’r.
My little Rose, my Rosebud dear!
My Rose that bloomed the roadside near!