Buttercups.
Flecking the vernal meadows until they
Seem robed in cloth-of-gold, they look so gay!
In such a spot sure Flora often sups,
With Zephyrus and Carps. Every child 5
Knows and appreciates this beauteous flower;
For Nature gives the dullest mind the power
Of loving Flora’s gifts, cultured or wild;
And much we err in middle-life if we
Let selfish cares destroy our early love. 10
For me, I still am child enough to rove
The hills and plains and dales with ecstasy,
Culling my wildflowers soon as they may blow,
Just as I used to do some sixty years ago.
George Markham Tweddell
[Sonnets on Trees and Flowers, p. 43]
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