And still they bloom as on the day
They first crowned wilderness and rock,
When Abel haply wreathed with may
The of his little flock,
And Eve might from the matted thorn
To deck her lone and lovely brow
Reach that same rose that heedless scorn
Misnames as the dog rosey now.
They first crowned wilderness and rock,
When Abel haply wreathed with may
The of his little flock,
And Eve might from the matted thorn
To deck her lone and lovely brow
Reach that same rose that heedless scorn
Misnames as the dog rosey now.
John Clare
