I picked a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping toward the ground.
I placed them in a well-cooled glass,
And what a wonder came to pass!
The heads soon raised themselves once more,
The stalks were blooming as before,
​And all were in as good a case
As when they left their native place.

So felt I, when I wondering heard
My song to foreign tongues transferred.