The flower,--the root,--the beast,--the bird,--
All living things, design'd
To feed the craving, or delight
The gaze of human kind!

The pencill'd wood-flower, fair and frail,--
The squirrel's cunning nest,--
The granite throne, with lichens wild,
In broidered vesture drest;--
Sweet violets bedded in their leaves,
The first soft pledge of Spring;--
Such were the gifts by Heaven's own hand
Shed on the Gipsy King!--

The snow-drop glistening in the wood,
The crowsfoot on the lea,
Their gold and silver coin pour'd forth
To store his treasury;
The springy moss, by fairies spread,
His velvet footcloth made;
His canopy shot up amid
The lime-tree's emerald shade.

Buck,--pheasant,--hare,--some lordly park
Still yielded to his feast;
And firing for his winter warmth,
And forage for his beast.
Happier than herald-blazoned Kings,
The monarch of the moor;--
_He_ levied taxes from the rich,--