To a Friend who sent me some Roses

As late I rambled in the happy fields,    

What time the sky-lark 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 excell’d:

But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me   

 My sense with their deliciousness was spell’d:

Soft voices had they, that with tender plea    

Whisper’d of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell’d.