DOWN in a valley, by a forest's side, Near where the crystal Thames rolls on her waves, I saw a mushroom stand in haughty pride, As if the lilies grew to be his slaves; The gentle daisy, with her silver crown, Worn in the breast of many a shepherd's lass; The humble violet, that lowly down Salutes the gay nymphs as they trimly pass: These, with a many more, methought, complain'd That Nature should those needless things produce, Which not alone the sun from others gain'd But turn it wholly to their proper use. I could not choose but grieve that Nature made So glorious flowers to live in such a shade. |