Classic Poem

The plants that careless grow shall flower and bud,
When wilted stands man's nicely tended flower;
E'en on the unsheltered waste, or pool's dark mud,
Spring bells and lilies fit for ladies' bower;
Come with me, I will show you where they grow;
The tangled vines and boughs come push aside;
O'er yonder hill top's craggy side we go,
Then by the path beyond we downward slide;
See by yond pond where few but travellers pass,
Each lily opens wide its curious cup;
And here where now we track the unmown grass,
The wild-heath bell surprised is looking up,
To view the strangers that thus far have sought
The flowers that in fair nature's robe are wrought.