 | Poems |  |
257
SPRING SONG.
Now do tawny bees, along,
Plundering sweets from blossoms, hum;
Now do showers of joyous song
Down from larks, up-mounting, come;
Everything
Now doth sing,
Welcome gladness—welcome Spring!
Plundering sweets from blossoms, hum;
Now do showers of joyous song
Down from larks, up-mounting, come;
Everything
Now doth sing,
Welcome gladness—welcome Spring!
Now, above, and all around,
Songs are thronging earth and air:
Joy is loud in every sound;
Every sound is mocking care;
Everything
Now doth sing,
Welcome gladness—welcome Spring!
Songs are thronging earth and air:
Joy is loud in every sound;
Every sound is mocking care;
Everything
Now doth sing,
Welcome gladness—welcome Spring!
Now is every hawthorn bough
Burden'd with its wealth of May;
Glistening runs each streamlet now,
Gamboling through the golden day;
Fount and Spring,
Hark! they sing,
Welcome sunshine—welcome Spring!
Burden'd with its wealth of May;
Glistening runs each streamlet now,
Gamboling through the golden day;
Fount and Spring,
Hark! they sing,
Welcome sunshine—welcome Spring!
Now do golden lizards lie,
Sunning them, on wayside banks;
Now, with flowers of many a dye,
Spring the woods and meadows pranks;
What say they?
This they say,
Welcome gladness—welcome May!
Sunning them, on wayside banks;
Now, with flowers of many a dye,
Spring the woods and meadows pranks;
What say they?
This they say,
Welcome gladness—welcome May!
Now do those, in joy that walk
Shadow'd wood and chequer'd lane,
Stay their steps, and hush their talk,
Till the cuckoo calls again;
Till anew,
Hush! cuckoo,
Hark! it comes the wood-depths through.
Shadow'd wood and chequer'd lane,
Stay their steps, and hush their talk,
Till the cuckoo calls again;
Till anew,
Hush! cuckoo,
Hark! it comes the wood-depths through.
258
Now the woods are starr'd with eyes;
Now, their weeds and mosses through,
Peep the white anemonies,
Daisies pink'd, and violets blue;
Flowers, they spring;
Birds, they sing,
All to swell the pomp of Spring.
Now, their weeds and mosses through,
Peep the white anemonies,
Daisies pink'd, and violets blue;
Flowers, they spring;
Birds, they sing,
All to swell the pomp of Spring.
Now in poets' songs 'tis told,
How, in vales of Arcady,
Once, men knew an age of gold;
Once, the earth seem'd heaven to be;
Hark! they sing,
“Years, ye bring,
“Golden times again with Spring.”
How, in vales of Arcady,
Once, men knew an age of gold;
Once, the earth seem'd heaven to be;
Hark! they sing,
“Years, ye bring,
“Golden times again with Spring.”
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