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 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.