SONG.
FIRST SHEPHERDESS.
1
Breath divine of morning odours!
Breath of blossoms, breath of buds;
Onward borne in wingèd chorus,
Through the alleys and old woods:
And thou stream, that, lightly flowing,
Dost thy pretty mirth enforce;
Flash, and laugh, and crystal ripple,
Hurrying in perpetual course:
O the joy to walk, low-singing,
Through those blooming vales, and say
Another morn hath dropped from heaven
With our aged earth to play!
SECOND SHEPHERDESS.
2
Phosphor, through my casement peeping,
On my folded eyelids shone;
‘Wake,’ he sang, ‘no more of sleeping,
Shadows melt, the night is gone:’
A bird that with the year is ripening,
One brief moment wakes to pour
Through the boughs wild jets of music,
Then sinks in sleep once more.
O the joy to walk, low-singing,
Through those blooming woods, and say
Another spring has stooped from heaven
With our aged earth to play!
