"The Primrose placing first, because that in the Spring It is the first appears; then only flourishing; The azured Harebell next with them they neatly mixt, T' allay whose luscious smell they Woodbine placed betwixt. Among those things of scent there prick they in the Lily, And near to that again her sister Daffodilly. To sort these flowers of show with others that were sweet, The Cowslip there they couch, and the Oxlip for her meet; The Columbine amongst them they sparingly do set, The yellow King-cup, wrought in many a curious fret;[52] And now and then among, of Eglantine a spray, By which again a course of Lady-mocks they lay; The Crow-flower, and thereby the Clorra-flower they stick, The Daisy over all those sundry sweets so thick, As Nature doth herself to imitate her right; Who seems in that her 'pearl' so greatly to delight, That every plain therewith she powdereth to behold. The crimson Darnel-flower, the Blue-bottle and gold, Which, though esteemed but weeds, yet, for their dainty hues, And for their scent, not ill, they for their purpose choose. Thus, having told you how the Bridegroom Thames was drest, I'll show you how the Bride, fair Isis, they invest." Here the poet resorts to the garden for his decorative wreath, but is careful, as we shall see, to eschew "florist's flowers," and to select only our dear old favourites:-- "The red, the dainty white, the gaudy Damask Rose, The brave Carnation, then, of sweet and sovereign power (So of his colour called, although a July flower), With the other of his kind, the speckled and the pale; Then the odoriferous Pink that sends forth such a gale Of sweetness, yet in scents as various as in sorts; The purple Violet then the Pansy there supports; The Marigold above t' adorn the arched bar; The double Daisy, Thrift, the Button-Bachelor; Sweet William, Sops in Wine, the Campion, and to these Some Lavender they put, and Rosemary, and Bays; Sweet Marjoram with her like, sweet Basil rare for smell, With many a flower whose name were now too long to tell." If our space permitted, we should like to gossip awhile about each of the flowers commemorated by our old poet, for to each attaches some legend, or romantic tradition, some rural observance, or sweet poetical association. But we must continue our researches, and they bring us now to the _Arum_. THE ARUM. To the French the Arum is commonly known as the Calf's foot (_Pied de veau_). It is a common enough plant, growing on the borders of the wood, and delighting especially in the shade of the hazel trees, but it bears not the slightest resemblance to the hoof of any quadruped whatsoever, unless, indeed, to a very fervid imagination there should be visible a shadowy similitude in its leaf.