“Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.”
“Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, / And sweet thyme true, / Primrose, first born child of Ver, / Merry Spring-time's harbinger.”
“Their smiles, / Wan as primroses gathered at midnight / By chilly-fingered Spring.”
“The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.”
“How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.”
“The fields from Islington to Marybone, / To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood, / Were builded over with pillars of gold; / And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.”
“The primroses were over.”
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