The Life of Flowers

When hath wind or rain Borne hard upon weak plant that wanted me, And I (however they might bluster round) Walkt off? ’T were most ungrateful; for sweet scents Are the swift vehicles of still sweeter thoughts, And nurse and pillow the dull memory That would let drop without them her best stores. They bring me tales of youth and tones of love, And ’t is and ever was my wish and way To let all flowers live freely, and all die (Whene’er their Genius bids their souls depart) Among their kindred in their native place. I never pluck the rose; the violet’s head Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank And not reproacht me; the ever-sacred cup Of the pure lily hath between my hands Felt safe, unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold.

Collection: 
English
1795
Walter Savage Landor
Sub Title: 
V. Trees: Flowers: Plants

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