As late I rambled in the happy fields,   
  What time the sky-lark shakes the tremulous dew   
  From his lush clover covert;—when anew   
Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields:   
I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields,        
  A fresh-blown musk-rose; ’twas the first that threw   
  Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew   
As is the wand that queen Titania wields.   
And, as I feasted on its fragrancy,   
  I thought the garden-rose it far excell’d:  
But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me   
  My sense with their deliciousness was spell’d:   
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea   
  Whisper’d of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell’d