TO
THE
FLOWER
LOVE-IN-IDLENESS
,
AND
A
PETITION
TO
THE
FAIRIES
TO
BRING
INDIFFERENCE
.
THACKWOOD
NOOK
,
JUNE
,
1790.
YE
fairy
Elves
from
every
cell
,
I
warn
you
to
repair
,
From
those
in
acorn
cups
who
dwell
,
To
those
in
coral
chair
;
Indifference
bid
his
poppy
give
To
calm
this
aching
head
,
And
o'er
the
feelings
that
will
live
Its
opiate
juices
shed
.
Then
anxious
thoughts
shall
disappear
,
The
wayward
wishes
die
;
And
every
forward
starting
tear
Withdraw
into
the
eye
.
Come
,
Elfin
Puck
,
I
know
thee
well
;
By
moonlight
have
I
seen
Thee
and
thy
train
weave
many
a
spell
Beneath
yon
oaks
so
green
.
Once
,
when
the
sky
was
up
in
arms
,
With
northern
lights
at
war
,
And
thou
wast
sent
for
wonderous
charms
,
Not
Oberon
knew
how
far
;
Within
a
dark
and
gloomy
shade
,
Where
no
star-lamps
were
hung
;
Where
the
bold
torrent
thunder
made
,
And
Echo's
shell
was
rung
;
Where
the
hoar
rock
majestic
sat
,
And
lent
a
listening
ear
;
And
where
the
drowsy
half-blind
bat
Wheel'd
round
,
but
wheel'd
with
fear
;
Thou
didst
a
gentle
maid
behold
On
the
hard
rock
reclin'd
,
Whilst
all
her
garment's
silken
folds
Were
floating
in
the
wind
;
And
ever
and
anon
there
fell
A
tear
from
either
eye
,
That
dropt
into
the
deep
harebell
Which
held
her
cup
hard
by
;
And
in
her
hand
a
mirror
shone
O'er
which
a
painted
train
Of
former
joys
—
far
past
and
gone
,
Would
wander
back
again
;
And
many
a
shadowy
form
was
seen
To
court
the
yielding
heart
;
And
many
a
happier
hour
had
been
,
That
died
ere
it
could
part
!
One
form
was
ever
in
her
eye
,
And
in
her
heart
was
found
,
To
catch
the
vapour
of
a
sigh
,
And
waft
it
round
and
round
;
Quick
in
an
instant
fled
away
The
variegated
train
;
And
all
the
crowd
that
seem'd
so
gay
Spread
into
air
again
.
Ah
!
Memory
,
source
of
joy
and
woe
,
Could'st
thou
thy
mirror
stain
In
such
a
way
as
but
to
show
Gay
pleasure's
sportive
train
;
Then
would
I
kneel
,
and
bless
thy
power
,
And
ever
round
thy
shrine
Low
bend
each
happy
,
blissful
hour
That
ever
once
was
mine
;
O
!
I
would
kneel
from
morn
till
night
,
And
see
the
setting
sun
Sink
down
the
sky
,
and
lose
his
light
,
Ere
half
the
rites
were
done
.
But
,
ah
!
how
vain
,
while
one
dear
shade
Still
bends
its
form
to
me
;
And
as
I
stray
through
time's
worn
glade
,
No
other
form
I
see
!
While
every
word
that
softly
flow'd
Seems
yet
to
court
my
ear
,
—
The
only
sound
in
life's
dull
road
It
ever
wish'd
to
hear
!
O
!
dear
Forgetfulness
,
if
e'er
Thou
wov'st
a
winding
shroud
,
Or
turn'd
to
pearl
one
trickling
tear
That
dropp'd
from
Sorrow's
cloud
;
O
!
Memory
,
if
thy
mirror
broke
When
Grief
her
note
would
swell
,
Or
by
some
quick
electric
stroke
Thy
forms
would
all
dispel
;
O
teach
a
young
unpractised
maid
Her
wonted
ease
to
find
,
And
banish
far
yon
winning
form
That
kills
her
peace
of
mind
!
The
Lesbian
maid
from
a
high
rock
Was
said
her
love
to
quell
,
Why
may
not
I
endure
the
shock
?
She
ne'er
lov'd
half
so
well
!
Just
as
she
rose
and
reach'd
the
brink
,
The
fairy
sprite
was
seen
To
make
the
rock
all
slowly
sink
To
the
smooth
level
green
;
The
roaring
flood
no
more
was
heard
,
The
wind
to
whispers
fell
;
And
gay
Forgetfulness
appear'd
To
hang
upon
his
spell
;
And
Memory's
mirror
darker
grew
,
And
objects
dimly
shone
;
And
Pleasure
on
its
surface
blew
,
And
all
the
forms
were
gone
.
The
maid's
pale
cheek
the
lily
lost
,
And
opening
roses
stray'd
;
Their
wonted
smiles
her
eyelids
boast
,
That
midst
their
fringes
played
.
Another
form
as
lowly
bends
,
And
tempts
her
heart
away
;
But
Caution
the
clos'd
ear
defends
,
Lest
that
fond
heart
should
stray
.
But
yet
Persuasion's
silver
sound
Thrills
on
that
heart's
soft
cords
,
And
many
a
speaking
tone
is
found
To
have
no
need
of
words
.
Is
there
a
scene
in
fairy
land
Where
Happiness
can
dwell
?
O
yes
,
when
heart
goes
with
the
hand
,
And
weaves
the
Lover's
spell
!
Then
haste
,
Indifference
thou
must
bring
To
shed
her
calm
o'er
me
,
I
ask
no
other
earthly
thing
From
thy
great
Queen
and
thee
!
'Twas
when
mild
Evening
took
her
views
,
I
made
this
ardent
prayer
,
Her
pencil
dipt
in
silver
dews
Would
paint
a
softer
air
;
Sudden
within
the
darkling
grove
Some
tiny
feet
were
heard
,
And
scenes
by
gay
Enchantment
wove
In
magic
pomp
appear'd
.
Borne
on
a
high
triumphal
car
Of
orient
pearl
made
,
The
Fairy
Queen
,
like
some
bright
star
Shot
through
the
spangl'd
glade
,
Bedeck'd
with
every
gem
so
bright
,
That
dares
reflect
the
sun
,
The
little
Queen
in
borrow'd
light
Like
some
gay
meteor
shone
.
Her
chariot
wheels
of
topaz
,
seem
With
diamonds
studded
round
,
Which
,
like
the
moonlight
,
dart
a
gleam
That
waves
along
the
ground
;
While
emeralds
an
umbrella
made
,
By
many
an
elf
upborne
,
Whose
little
coats
,
green
as
the
shade
,
Bright
fairy
foils
adorn
.
Midst
their
Queen's
locks
of
golden
thread
A
beauteous
plume
there
waves
:
—
A
humming-bird
once
made
its
bed
Within
the
foxglove's
caves
,
And
Oberon
,
to
grace
his
Queen
,
Had
sought
the
lily's
bell
,
And
peep'd
in
every
cup-clos'd
flower
Where
these
gay
birds
can
dwell
;
At
last
kind
chance
conducts
his
feet
To
where
the
slumberer
lay
;
—
Ah
!
nought
avails
the
deep
retreat
,
He
bears
the
plume
away
!
To
grace
his
Queen
he
bore
the
prize
,
When
Reconcilement
strove
Again
to
kindle
with
her
sighs
The
flame
of
smothered
love
;
For
even
fairy
Elves
,
we're
told
,
Are
sometimes
found
to
jar
,
And
many
a
little
Elfin-scold
Is
heard
by
many
a
star
:
—
Six
little
,
little
Indian
deer
,
That
boast
but
half
inch
height
,
Would
at
a
word
fly
every
where
,
And
journey
through
the
night
.
At
last
the
glittering
Queen
descends
,
While
Elfins
bow
around
;
And
one
her
frosted
robe
attends
,
That
sweeps
the
spangl'd
ground
.
To
me
she
bent
:
—
Thou
mortal
mould
,
Though
seldom
Fairies
deign
Their
converse
with
such
wights
to
hold
;
Yet
as
thou
lov'st
our
train
,
And
dost
by
moonlight
often
stray
,
And
acorn
cups
bestow
,
—
The
glowworm
deck'st
,
whose
glittering
ray
Doth
on
our
pathway
glow
;
There
as
thy
lightsome
foot
thus
treads
The
lovely
fairy
scene
,
Thy
hand
the
dews
so
neatly
threads
To
hang
on
grass
so
green
;
I
come
to
say
,
I've
sought
each
flower
,
Each
fairy
herb
and
tree
,
But
there's
not
one
has
any
power
To
work
a
charm
for
thee
.
Indifference
will
not
shed
her
balm
,
Nor
drowsy
poppy
lend
;
That
breast
can
ne'er
be
sweetly
calm
,
Where
Feeling
mourns
a
friend
.
Have
I
not
mark'd
thee
many
an
hour
,
With
none
but
Fairies
by
,
Pluck
up
some
story-telling
flower
,
And
weep
within
its
eye
?
That
little
eye
perchance
had
seen
Some
treasure
of
the
heart
,
Or
mark'd
the
spot
where
friends
had
been
,
Or
seen
fond
lovers
part
:
Beneath
yon
tree
,
with
names
o'ergrown
,
Have
I
not
heard
thy
sighs
;
And
,
as
embracing
every
one
,
Have
mark'd
thy
tear-set
eyes
?
Think'st
thou
,
when
reliques
strow
the
ground
And
hang
on
every
tree
,
Indifference
will
e'er
be
found
To
shed
her
calm
o'er
thee
!
When
not
a
path
the
friend
has
trode
,
But
still
in
fancy's
eye
It
seems
the
only
certain
road
To
meet
returning
joy
!
If
,
if
indeed
thou
would'st
be
blest
,
No
dear
memorials
keep
;
And
in
the
aching
tortur'd
breast
Let
restless
memory
sleep
.
Nor
cull
the
flowers
,
nor
mark
the
tree
,
Nor
through
the
pathway
rove
,
Where
thou
wast
wont
the
friend
to
see
That
won
thy
soul
to
love
!
For
Time's
hard
hand
can
ne'er
deface
The
likeness
of
that
hour
,
While
soft
remembrance
keeps
its
trace
—
Its
mark
on
every
flower
.
If
to
forgetfulness
thou'lt
kneel
,
I
then
will
bring
a
charm
That
o'er
thy
senses
soft
shall
steal
And
chill
that
heart
so
warm
.
Come
now
,
and
wend
along
with
me
;
See'st
thou
yon
tiny
flower
—
So
white
and
dove-like
—
dost
thou
see
It
loves
the
present
hour
?
It
will
not
turn
its
little
eye
On
scenes
all
past
and
gone
;
It
dips
its
leaf
in
dewy
joy
,
And
still
keeps
hoping
on
.
Once
,
once
it
was
a
tender
maid
,
And
who
lov'd
far
too
well
;
For
her
,
in
the
bright
glowworm
glade
,
I
wrought
a
wonderous
spell
.
I
saw
the
rose
fade
on
her
cheek
,
The
star
set
in
her
eye
;
I
saw
the
words
she
durst
not
speak
—
E'en
to
the
secret
sigh
!
I
saw
the
moon
fill
up
her
horn
,
Wane
,
and
grow
round
again
;
Still
at
return
of
eve
and
morn
I
saw
returning
pain
.
And
in
the
dewdrop
of
the
night
I
found
her
pearly
tear
;
And
in
the
hollow
wind's
soft
sound
Her
sighs
moan'd
in
my
ear
.
Soft
Pity
touch'd
a
Fairy's
breast
,
I
chang'd
her
to
a
flower
;
I
need
not
say
—
thou
seest
the
rest
,
—
She
loves
the
present
hour
.
Do
thou
from
Lethe
take
a
draught
,
Then
wear
this
smiling
flower
;
And
to
the
wandering
wayward
thought
Unite
the
present
hour
.
The
blissful
bondage
soon
shall
prove
A
source
of
lasting
ease
,
For
,
with
the
present
hour
in
love
,
The
smallest
thing
shall
please
.