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And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Blue thou art, intensely blue;
Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?
Blue thou art, intensely blue;
Flower, whence came thy dazzling hue?
Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow,
Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground,
With folded read more
Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow,
Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground,
With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow
The gentian nods in dewy slumbers bound.
