 | My Sonnets |  |
33
WRITTEN IN KNOWLE PARK.
1
How lovely is the earth! The bright-eyed spring,Through the green woodlands, bounds with mirthful May;
Around her dance the hours, and lift away,
From the young flowers, the emerald veils, that cling
Around their bursting beauty. All things sing,
From the young winds, that through the tree-tops play,
To the bright breeze-kissed leaves, and streams that stray,
Bubbling of joy, from mossy fount and spring.
See, the sweet sunbeams, from their bright home, wing
Their way, through the blue heavens, from star to star;
Now, lighting on yon wandering clouds, they fling,
Around their fleecy forms, such hues as are
Seen, with their beauty, zoning the sunrise,
Or arching o'er the storm in April's dewy skies.
October 21st, 1842.
2
How lovely is the earth, though spring has fled,With the bright colours of her young, green, leaves,—
Though the piled shocks of amber-tinted sheaves
Stand in the reapëd fields of corn, instead
Of the green blades that erst the winds would tread
Into the likeness of a sea, that heaves
Beneath the breezes' footsteps. Summer leaves
No trace of her sweet being—she is dead:
The shrill-voiced winds pipe her sad dirge, and mourn
The falling of the leaves, alas! grown old.
Yet is the earth most lovely. Not have gone
All the light dancers of the boughs; like gold
They gleam upon the trees, that seem, each one,
Robed in the livery of the burning sun.
October 21st, 1842.
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