What me the flowers will bring.



GARDENER.


True Bramin, in the morning meadows wet,
Expound the Vedas of the violet,
Or, hid in vines, peeping through many a loop,
See the plum redden, and the beurre stoop.



FORESTER.


He took the colour of his vest
From rabbit's coat or grouse's breast;
For, as the wood-kinds lurk and hide,
So walks the woodman, unespied.



NORTHMAN.


The gale that wrecked you on the sand,
It helped my rowers to row;
The storm is my best galley hand,