The Cowslip and the Lark

My pretty lady Cowslip ! prim and shy,
Dress'd in the vernal garb of Roman bride,
I wish thee sometimes in a long road-side
My solitary dream to purify.
And thou, bold Lark ! thou shivering voice on high !
Invisible warbler of the blue expanse !
Why wilt thou not, my merry bird, advance.
And glad Winander with thy minstrelsy ?
The fancy sweet of Persia feign'd the love.
Of the voluptuous rose and nightingale.
And Kent flows on, — the merry Lark above
And the meek Cowslip bending in the vale ; —
What if there be mysterious love between
The brave bird of the sky and flow'ret of the green !