To the Same Flower

by William Wordsworth

Pleasures newly found are sweet 
When they lie about our feet: 
February last, my heart 
First at sight of thee was glad; 
All unheard of as thou art, 
Thou must needs, I think, have had, 
Celandine ("seh·luhn·dine")! 
And long ago. 
Praise of which I nothing know.



In medieval lore, it was believed that mother birds dropped the juice of the celandine into the eyes of their blind fledglings.

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Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
To the Same Flower

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