Heather

You talk of pale primroses,

Of frail and fragrant posies,

The cowslip and the cuckoo-flower

that scent the spring-time lea.

But give to me the heather,

The honey-scented heather,
 The glowing gipsy heather--

That is the flower for me!

You love the garden alleys,

Smooth-shaven lawns and valleys,

The cornfield and the shady lane, and

fisher-sails at sea.

But give to me the moorland,

The noble purple moorland,

The free, far-stretching moorland--

That is the land for me!

--Flora Thompson