 | The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems |  |
The morning bursts—all heaven has shed
Its light and music round thy bed:
The birds are busy in the eaves;
The sun-light dances on the leaves
That tremble round the window's rim;
And to and fro the shadows skim
Of busy wings without, that ply
In quest of larva, worm, or fly.
Throw now the sunny casement wide,
In flows the warm and odorous tide
From dew-besprinkled shrub and flower,
That blossom round that sylvan bower.
Its light and music round thy bed:
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The sun-light dances on the leaves
That tremble round the window's rim;
And to and fro the shadows skim
Of busy wings without, that ply
In quest of larva, worm, or fly.
Throw now the sunny casement wide,
In flows the warm and odorous tide
From dew-besprinkled shrub and flower,
That blossom round that sylvan bower.
| The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems | |