Screened is this nook o'er the high, half-reaped field,
            And here til sundown, shepherd, will I be.
                 Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep
            And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see
                 Pale pink convolvulus in tendrils creep;
                      And air-swept lindens yield
            Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers
                 Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,
                 And bower me from the August sun with shade;
            And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers;



from The Scholar Gypsy -  Matthew Arnold.

       Even if it is the wrong time of year to quote this poem.  I just love the word 'convolvulus'.