The purple heath and golden broom
On moory mountains catch the gale.
O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume.
The violet in the vale. [ Montgomery ]

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night.
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, over lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light. [ Moore ]

The wanton lawns, more soft and white than milk. [ Beaumont and Fletcher ]

Sweet as dew-drops on the flowery lawns when the sky opens, and the morning dawns. [ Tickell ]