| {21} I  AM rooted in the wall
 | 
            
              | Of buttress'd tower or ancient hall; | 
            
              | Prison'd in an art-wrought bed. | 
            
              | Cased in mortar, cramp'd with lead; | 
            
              | Of a living stock alone | 
            
              | Brother of the lifeless stone. | 
            
              | Else unprized, I have my worth
 | 
            
              | On the spot that gives me birth; | 
            
              | Nature's vast and varied field | 
            
              | Braver flowers than me will yield, | 
            
              | Bold in form and rich in hue, | 
            
              | Children of a purer dew; | 
            
              | Smiling lips and winning eyes | 
            
              | Meet for earthly paradise. {22} | 
            
              | Choice are such,—and yet thou knowest | 
            
              | Highest he whose lot is lowest. | 
            
              | They, proud hearts, a home reject | 
            
              | Framed by human architect; | 
            
              | Humble-I can bear to dwell | 
            
              | Near the pale recluse's cell, | 
            
              | And I spread my crimson bloom, | 
            
              | Mingled with the cloister's gloom. | 
            
              | Life's gay gifts and honours rare, | 
            
              | Flowers of favour! win and wear! | 
            
              | Rose of beauty, be the queen | 
            
              | In pleasure's ring and festive scene. | 
            
              | Ivy, climb and cluster, where | 
            
              | Lordly oaks vouchsafe a stair. | 
            
              | Vaunt, fair Lily, stately dame, | 
            
              | Pride of birth and pomp of name. | 
            
              | Miser Crocus, starved with cold, | 
            
              | Hide in earth thy timid gold. | 
            
              | Travell'd Dahlia, freely boast | 
            
              | Knowledge brought from foreign coast. | 
            
              | Pleasure, wealth, birth, knowledge, power, | 
            
              | These have each an emblem flower; | 
            
              | So for me alone remains | 
            
              | Lowly thought and cheerful pains. {23} | 
            
              | Be it mine to set restraint | 
            
              | On roving wish and selfish plaint; | 
            
              | And for man's drear haunts to leave | 
            
              | Dewy morn and balmy eve. | 
            
              | Be it mine the barren stone | 
            
              | To deck with green life not its own. | 
            
              | So to soften and to grace | 
            
              | Of human works the rugged face. | 
            
              | Mine, the Unseen to display | 
            
              | In the crowded public way, | 
            
              | Where life's busy arts combine | 
            
              | To shut out the Hand Divine. | 
            
              | Ah! no more a scentless flower,
 | 
            
              | By approving Heaven's high power, | 
            
              | Suddenly my leaves exhale | 
            
              | Fragrance of the Syrian gale. | 
            
              | Ah! 'tis timely comfort given | 
            
              | By the answering breath of Heaven! | 
            
              | May it be! then well might I | 
            
              | In College cloister live and die. | 
            
              | Ulcombe.
 October 2, 1827.
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