O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou letst fall From Diss waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Junos eyes Or Cythereas breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phbus in his strength,a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one.