Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month Hath borrow'd Zephyr's voice, and gazed upon thee With blue voluptuous eye) alas, poor Flower! 5 These are but flatteries of the faithless year. Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave, Even now the keen North-East is on its way. Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth 10 Nipp'd by consumption mid untimely charms? Or to Bristowa's bard,[149:1] the wondrous boy! An amaranth, which earth scarce seem'd to own, Till disappointment came, and pelting wrong Beat it to earth? or with indignant grief 15 Shall I compare thee to poor Poland's hope, Bright flower of hope killed in the opening bud? Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine And mock my boding! Dim similitudes Weaving in moral strains, I've stolen one hour 20 From anxious Self, Life's cruel taskmaster! And the warm wooings of this sunny day Tremble along my frame and harmonize The attempered organ, that even saddest thoughts Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes 25 Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument. 1796. FOOTNOTES: [148:2] First published in _The Watchman_, No. vi, April 11, 1796: included in 1797, 1803, _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, 1828, 1829, and 1834. [149:1] Chatterton. LINENOTES: Title] Lines on observing, &c., Written near Sheffield, Watchman, 1797, 1803. [5] With 'blue voluptuous eye' 1803. [Between 13 and 14] Blooming mid Poverty's drear wintry waste Watchman, 1797, 1803, S. L., 1817, 1828. [16] hope] hopes, Watchman. [21] From black anxiety that gnaws my heart. For her who droops far off on a sick bed. Watchman, 1797, 1803. [24] Th' attempered brain, that ev'n the saddest thoughts Watchman, 1797, 1803. TO A PRIMROSE[149:2] THE FIRST SEEN IN THE SEASON Nitens et roboris expers Turget et insolida est: et spe delectat. OVID, _Metam._ [xv. 203]. Thy smiles I note, sweet early Flower, That peeping from thy rustic bower The festive news to earth dost bring, A fragrant messenger of Spring. But, tender blossom, why so pale? 5 Dost hear stern Winter in the gale? And didst thou tempt the ungentle sky To catch one vernal glance and die? Such the wan lustre Sickness wears When Health's first feeble beam appears; 10 So languid are the smiles that seek To settle on the care-worn cheek, When timorous Hope the head uprears, Still drooping and still moist with tears, If, through dispersing grief, be seen 15 Of Bliss the heavenly spark serene.