Golden pulse grew on the shore,
Ferns along the hill,
And the red cliff roses bore
Bees to drink their fill;Bees that from the meadows bring
Wine of melilot,
Honey-sups on golden wing
To the garden grot.But to me, neglected flower,
Phaon will not see,
Passion brings no crowning hour,
Honey nor the bee.
Ferns along the hill,
And the red cliff roses bore
Bees to drink their fill;Bees that from the meadows bring
Wine of melilot,
Honey-sups on golden wing
To the garden grot.But to me, neglected flower,
Phaon will not see,
Passion brings no crowning hour,
Honey nor the bee.
