"Down in a valley, by a forest side, Near where the crystal Thames rolls on her waves, I saw a mushroom stand in haughty pride, As if the lillies grew to be his slaves; The gentle daisy, with her silver crown, Worn in the breast of many a shepherd’s lass; The humble violet, that lowly down, Salutes the gay nymphs as they trimly pass; Those, with a many more, methought complain’d That Nature should those needless things produce, Which not alone the Sun from others gain’d, But turn it wholely to their proper use: I could not choose but grieve, that Nature made Such glorious flowers to live in such a shade."