Your beauty is so old,

You are a form so cold

I can not understand you

Nor feel for him who planned you.

I easier lessons seek

Than those in chiseled Greek.

I turn to you my fragrant;

Bedewed and straggling vagrant,

You are a simple flower,

And scarce live out the hour

Here in the garden by-way

(That still is Nature’s highway!)

Yet utter from the grass

Lessons from Phidias!