To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses

As late I rambled in the happy fields,

What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew

From his lush clover covert;—when anew

Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields;

I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,

A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw

Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew

As is the wand that Queen Titania wields.

And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,

I thought the garden-rose it far excelled;

But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me,

My sense with their deliciousness was spelled:

Soft voices had they, that with tender plea

Whispered of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquelled.