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 bosom¹ 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 bluebells² 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 ivy³ serpentine⁴

    With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray；

    And flowers azure⁵ #CCCCFF and streak'd with gold

    Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold⁶.

    And nearer to the river's trembling edge

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

    And starry⁷ 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 watery⁸ light；

    And bulrushes and reeds of such deep green

    As soothed⁹ the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

    Methought that of these visionary flowers

    I made a nosegay bound in such a way

    That the same hues¹⁰ which in their natural bowers¹¹

    Were mingled¹² 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？