 | Poems |  |
99
APRIL.
Descend, sweet April, from yon watery bow,
And, liberal, strew the ground with budding flowers,
With leafless crocus, leaf-veiled violet,
Auricula, with powdered cup, primrose
That loves to lurk below the hawthorn shade.
At thy approach health re-illumes the eye:
Even pale Consumption, from thy balmy breath,
Inhales delusive hope; and, dreaming still
Of length of days, basks in some sunny plat,
And decks her half-foreboding breast with flowers,—
With flowers, which else would have survived the hand
By which they're pulled. But they will bloom again:
The daisy, spreading on the greensward grave,
Fades, dies, and seems to perish, yet revives.
Shall man for ever sleep? Cruel the tongue,
That, with sophistic art, snatches from pain,
Diseas, and grief and want, that antidote,
Which makes the wretched smile, the hopeless hope.
And, liberal, strew the ground with budding flowers,
With leafless crocus, leaf-veiled violet,
Auricula, with powdered cup, primrose
That loves to lurk below the hawthorn shade.
At thy approach health re-illumes the eye:
Even pale Consumption, from thy balmy breath,
Inhales delusive hope; and, dreaming still
Of length of days, basks in some sunny plat,
And decks her half-foreboding breast with flowers,—
With flowers, which else would have survived the hand
By which they're pulled. But they will bloom again:
The daisy, spreading on the greensward grave,
Fades, dies, and seems to perish, yet revives.
Shall man for ever sleep? Cruel the tongue,
100
Diseas, and grief and want, that antidote,
Which makes the wretched smile, the hopeless hope.
Light now the western gale sweeps o'er the plain;
Gently it waves the rivulet's cascade;
Gently it parts the lock on beauty's brow,
And lifts the tresses from the snowy neck,
And bends the flowers, and makes the lily stoop,
As if to kiss its image in the wave;
Or curls, with softest breath, the glassy pool,
Aiding the treachery of the mimic fly;
While, warily, behind the half-leaved bush,
The angler screened, with keenest eye intent,
Awaits the sudden rising of the trout:
Down dips the feathery lure; the quivering rod
Bends low; in vain the cheated captive strives
To break the yielding line; exhausted soon,
Ashore he's drawn, and, on the mossy bank
Weltering, he dyes the primrose with his blood.
Gently it waves the rivulet's cascade;
Gently it parts the lock on beauty's brow,
And lifts the tresses from the snowy neck,
And bends the flowers, and makes the lily stoop,
As if to kiss its image in the wave;
Or curls, with softest breath, the glassy pool,
Aiding the treachery of the mimic fly;
While, warily, behind the half-leaved bush,
The angler screened, with keenest eye intent,
Awaits the sudden rising of the trout:
Down dips the feathery lure; the quivering rod
Bends low; in vain the cheated captive strives
To break the yielding line; exhausted soon,
Ashore he's drawn, and, on the mossy bank
Weltering, he dyes the primrose with his blood.
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