 | The British Months |  |
They're open to the general view:
And he, who wills it, may pursue
Observant from the natal hour,
Which wakes to life the budded flow'r,
To that, when drooping in decay
Each faded flow'r is past away,
And bloomless leaves the plant and bare;—
Yes, he who will may follow there
Progressively the steps that lead
To perfectness the increasing seed:
Till, bursting from its parent case,
And scatter'd by the feather'd race,
By insect, reptile, beast, or man,
Co-labourers in nature's plan,
Or wafted by the passing wind,
At once a refuge meet it find,
A tomb within the shrouding earth,
And cradle for the future birth.
And he, who wills it, may pursue
Observant from the natal hour,
Which wakes to life the budded flow'r,
To that, when drooping in decay
Each faded flow'r is past away,
And bloomless leaves the plant and bare;—
Yes, he who will may follow there
Progressively the steps that lead
To perfectness the increasing seed:
Till, bursting from its parent case,
And scatter'd by the feather'd race,
By insect, reptile, beast, or man,
Co-labourers in nature's plan,
303
At once a refuge meet it find,
A tomb within the shrouding earth,
And cradle for the future birth.
Less obvious to the inquiring sight,
Hid in the earth and gloomy night,
His trust the seed begins unfold;
Till issuing from that secret hold,
The plant his gradual form displays,
And courts unveil'd the publick gaze.
Hid in the earth and gloomy night,
His trust the seed begins unfold;
Till issuing from that secret hold,
The plant his gradual form displays,
And courts unveil'd the publick gaze.
But would you wish commenc'd to see
The process of that mystery,
Pause for a moment, nor refuse
Your kindly hearing, while the Muse
Would fain a pleasing sight rehearse,
Yet unessay'd in measur'd verse;
Nor yet essay'd, if right she knows,
Save by herself in humbler prose.
The process of that mystery,
Pause for a moment, nor refuse
Your kindly hearing, while the Muse
Would fain a pleasing sight rehearse,
Yet unessay'd in measur'd verse;
Nor yet essay'd, if right she knows,
Save by herself in humbler prose.
| The British Months | |