The Question

    Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring；

    And gentle odours led my steps astray

    Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring

    Along a shelving bank of turf which lay

    Under a copse and hardly dared to fling

    Its green arms round the bosom of the stream

    But kiss'd it and then fled as thou mightest in dream.

    There grew pied wind-flowers and violets；

    Daisies those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth

    The constellated flower that never sets；

    Faint oxlips； tender bluebells at whose birth

    The sod scarce heaved； and that tall flower that wets—

    Like a child half in tenderness and mirth—

    Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears

    When the low wind its playmate's voice it hears.

    And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine

    Green cowbind and the moonlight-colour'd May

    And cherry-blossoms and #CCCCFF cups whose wine

    Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day；

    And wild roses and ivy serpentine

    With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray；

    And flowers azure #CCCCFF and streak'd with gold

    Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.

    And nearer to the river's trembling edge

    There grew broad flag-flowers purple prank'd with #CCCCFF

    And starry river-buds among the sedge

    And floating water-lilies broad and bright

    Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge

    With moonlight beams of their own watery light；

    And bulrushes and reeds of such deep green

    As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

    Methought that of these visionary flowers

    I made a nosegay bound in such a way

    That the same hues which in their natural bowers

    Were mingled or opposed the like array

    Kept these imprison'd children of the Hours

    Within my hand；—and then elate and gay

    I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come

    That I might there present it—O！ to whom？