I.
There is no flower of wood or lea,
No April flower, as fair as she:
O white anemone, who hast
The wind's wild grace,
Know her a cousin of thy race,
Into whose face
A presence like the wind's hath passed.
II.
There is no flower of wood or lea,
No Maytime flower, as fair as she:
O bluebell, tender with the blue
Of limpid skies,
Thy lineage hath kindred ties
In her, whose eyes
The heav'n's own qualities imbue.
III.
There is no flower of wood or lea,
No Juneday flower, as fair as she:
Rose,—odorous with beauty of
Life's first and best,—
Behold thy sister here confessed!
Whose maiden breast
Is fragrant with the dreams of love.