eglantine, but sticketh here;
Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough;
Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough;
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
_Amoretti, Sonnet XXVI_. E. SPENSER.

And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
_Lines written in Early Spring_. W. WORDSWORTH.

SPRING.

Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mould
Although the March breezes blew keen on her face,
Although the white snow lay in many a place.
_Daffy-Down-Dilly_. A.B. WARNER.

Darlings of the forest!
Blossoming alone
When Earth's grief is sorest
For her jewels gone--
Ere the last snowdrift melts, your tender buds have blown.
_Trailing Arbutus_. R.T. COOKE.

Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose,
A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring!
The stooping boughs above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the elm-tree for our king!
_Wishing: A Child's Song_. W. ALLINGHAM.

Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!
Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
Was nursed in whirling storms,
And cradled in the winds.
Thee when young spring first questioned winter's sway,
And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,
Thee on his bank he threw
To mark his victory.
_To an Early Primrose_. H.K. WHITE.

O Proserpina!
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou lett'st fall
From Dis's wagon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength.
_The Winter's Tale, Act iv. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
_My Nannie's Awa'_. R. BURNS.

A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more.
_Peter Bell_. W. WORDSWORTH.

The loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth,
And they first feel the sun: so violets blue;
So the soft star-like primrose--drenched in dew--
The happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth.
_Spring Showers_. J. KEBLE.

Primrose-ey