C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Hawthorn

The hawthorn trees blow in the dew of the morning.

Burns.

And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Milton.

Yet, all beneath the unrivall’d rose,
The lowly daisy sweetly blows;
Tho’ large the forest’s monarch throws
His army shade,
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows,
Adown the glade.

Burns.

Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing;
Now hawthorns blossom.

Pope.

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