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Yes, we were walking through stitchwort, wild garlic, campion, blue bells and buttercups.

The hedgerows had burst into tender green, and the banks were spangled with stitchwort and celandine stars.

Nor could that word of Tennyson be properly used of any pure white flower—the stitchwort for instance; nor of any white and yellow flower like the Marguerite.

“Yes, it is a couple of months, say, later than the great stitchwort.”

Turning his horse he commenced searching for the flower amid that sea of grass, and the yellow blossoms of cinquefoil, and stitchwort, and water-lilies.