Jean Ingelow

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

And old affront will stir the heart
Through years of rankling pain.

And O the buttercups! that field
O' the cloth of gold, when pennons swam--
Where France set read more

And O the buttercups! that field
O' the cloth of gold, when pennons swam--
Where France set up his lilied shield,
His oriflamb,
And Henry's lion-standard rolled:
What was it to their matchless sheen,
Their million million drops of gold
Among the green!

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye read more

The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells,
Play uppe The Brides of Enderby."

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod.

Against her ankles as she trod
The lucky buttercups did nod.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.