But, good my brother, do not, as some ungracious pastors do.
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and recks not his own rede.
I'm glad I don't live in Primrose Hill any more.
I couldn't even walk through the park. You never invite that kind of attention.
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.
Last Update: January, 2020