The poem
I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately, And bore it homewards, musing greatly; When, heated by my hand, I found The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground. I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass, And what a wonder came to pass The heads soon raised themselves once more. The stalks were blooming as before, And all were in as good a case As when they left their native place.
* * * *
So felt I, when I wond'ring heard My song to foreign tongues transferr'd.
1828.