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Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff.

Yet soon fair Spring shall give another scene. And yellow cowslips gild the level green.

And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.

Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.

The nesh yonge coweslip bendethe wyth the dewe.

The cowslip is a country wench.

The first wan cowslip, wet With tears of the first morn.

Through tall cowslips nodding near you, Just to touch you as you pass.

Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.

The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility.

The cowslips tall her pensioners be. In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, fairy favors; In those freckles live their savors.

And ye talk together still, In the language wherewith Spring Letters cowslips on the hill.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.