Here
the strong mallow strikes her slimy root; Here the dull nightshade hangs
her deadly fruit:
On hills of dust the henbane¡¯s faded green, And pencil¡¯d flower of
sickly scent is seen,
Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom, Grows the salt lavender that
lacks perfume,
At the wall¡¯s base the fiery nettle springs With fruit globose and
fierce with poison¡¯d stings;
In ev¡¯ry chink delights the fern to grow, With glossy leaf and tawny
bloom below;
The few dull flowers that o¡¯er the place are spread Partake the nature
of their fenny bed,
These, with our seaweeds rolling up and down, Form the contracted Flora
of our town.
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