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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341287" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Country Nosegay</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where have you been through the long sweet hours<br>That follow the fragrant feet of June?<br>By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,<br>Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And sooth each wilding that buds and blows<br>You seem to have found and clustered here,<br>Round the rustic sprays of the child-like rose<br>That smiles in one's face till it stirs a tear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The clambering vetch, and the meadow-sweet tall,<br>That nodded good-day as you sauntered past,<br>And the poppy flaunting atop of the wall,<br>Which, proud as glory, will fade as fast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The campion bladders the children burst,<br>The bramble that clutches and won't take nay,<br>And the pensive delicate foxgloves nursed<br>In woods that curtain from glare of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The prosperous elder that always smells<br>Of homely joys and the cares that bless,<br>And the woodbine's waxen and honeyed cells,<br>A hive of the sweetest idleness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this wayside nosegay is all for me,<br>For me, the poet-the word sounds strong;-<br>Well, for him at least, whatever he be,<br>Who has loitered his morning away in song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though sweetest poems that ever were writ,<br>With the posy that up to my gaze you lift,<br>Seem void of music and poor of wit,<br>Yet I guess your meaning, and take your gift.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For 'tis true among fields and woods I sing,<br>Aloof from cities, and my poor strains<br>Were born, like the simple flowers you bring,<br>In English meadows and English lanes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If e'er in my verse lurks tender thought,<br>'Tis borrowed from cushat or blackbird's throat;<br>If sweetness any, 'tis culled or caught<br>From boughs that blossom and clouds that float.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No rare exotics nor forced are these;<br>They budded in darkness and throve in storm;<br>They drank their colour from rain and breeze,<br>And from sun and season they took their form.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They peeped through the drift of the winter snows;<br>They waxed and waned with the waning moon;<br>Their music they stole from the deep-hushed rose,<br>And all the year round to them is June.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So let us exchange, nor ask who gains,<br>What each has saved from the morning hours:<br>Take, such as they are, my wilding strains,<br>And I will accept your wilding flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341287" data-title="A Country Nosegay de Alfred Austin" data-description="Where have you been through the long sweet hours
That follow the fragrant feet of June?
By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,
Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.

And sooth each wilding that buds and blows
You seem to have found a..."></div>
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