 | By The Way |  |
As, upon a day of March,
When blue glory fills the arch
Of ether, and the wave is bright
And the mountains robed in light,
Hours are lovely beyond measure,
Tranquil souls have perfect pleasure;
Yet, bethink you, hedge and tree
Stand as bare as bare can be,
Or but faintly hint the time,
Hastening on, of leafy prime—
When blue glory fills the arch
Of ether, and the wave is bright
And the mountains robed in light,
Hours are lovely beyond measure,
Tranquil souls have perfect pleasure;
Yet, bethink you, hedge and tree
Stand as bare as bare can be,
Or but faintly hint the time,
Hastening on, of leafy prime—
| By The Way | |