 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
Spring in Town.—Bryant.
The country ever has a lagging spring,
Waiting for May to call its violets forth,
And June its roses. Showers and sunshine bring
Slowly the deepening verdure o'er the earth;
To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,
And one by one the singing birds come back;
Waiting for May to call its violets forth,
And June its roses. Showers and sunshine bring
Slowly the deepening verdure o'er the earth;
To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,
And one by one the singing birds come back;
Within the city's bounds the time of flowers
Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,
Such as full often, for a few bright hours,
Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,
Shine on our roofs, and chase the wintry gloom—
And, lo, our borders glow with sudden bloom.
Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,
Such as full often, for a few bright hours,
Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,
Shine on our roofs, and chase the wintry gloom—
And, lo, our borders glow with sudden bloom.
For the wide sidewalks of Broadway are then
Gorgeous as are a rivulet's banks in June,
That, overhung with blossoms, through its glen
Slides soft away beneath the sunny noon;
And they that search the untrodden wood for flowers
Meet in its depths no lovelier ones than ours.
Gorgeous as are a rivulet's banks in June,
That, overhung with blossoms, through its glen
Slides soft away beneath the sunny noon;
And they that search the untrodden wood for flowers
Meet in its depths no lovelier ones than ours.
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For here are eyes that shame the violet,
Or the dark drop that on the pansy lies;
And foreheads white as when, in clusters set,
The anemonies by forest fountains rise;
And the spring-beauty boasts no tenderer streak
Than the soft red on many a youthful cheek.
Or the dark drop that on the pansy lies;
And foreheads white as when, in clusters set,
The anemonies by forest fountains rise;
And the spring-beauty boasts no tenderer streak
Than the soft red on many a youthful cheek.
And thick about those lovely temples lie
Locks that the lucky Vignardonne has curled—
Thrice happy man, whose trade it is to buy,
And bake, and braid those love-nets of the world.
Who curls of every glossy color keepest,
And sellest, it is said, the blackest cheapest!
Locks that the lucky Vignardonne has curled—
Thrice happy man, whose trade it is to buy,
And bake, and braid those love-nets of the world.
Who curls of every glossy color keepest,
And sellest, it is said, the blackest cheapest!
And well thou mayst; for Italy's brown maids
Send the dark locks with which their brows are drest
And Tuscan lasses from their jetty braids
Crop half to buy a ribbon for the rest;
But the fresh Norman girls their ringlets spare,
And the Dutch damsel keeps her flaxen hair.
Send the dark locks with which their brows are drest
And Tuscan lasses from their jetty braids
Crop half to buy a ribbon for the rest;
But the fresh Norman girls their ringlets spare,
And the Dutch damsel keeps her flaxen hair.
Then henceforth let no maid or matron grieve
To see her locks of an unlovely hue,
Frowzy or thin; for Vignardonne shall give
Such piles of curls as nature never knew:
Eve, with her veil of tresses, at the sight
Had blushed outdone, and owned herself a fright.
To see her locks of an unlovely hue,
Frowzy or thin; for Vignardonne shall give
Such piles of curls as nature never knew:
Eve, with her veil of tresses, at the sight
Had blushed outdone, and owned herself a fright.
Soft voices and light laughter wake the street
Like notes of wood-birds, and where'er the eye
Threads the long way, plumes wave, and twinkling feet
Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty by;
The ostrich, hurrying o'er the desert space,
Scarce bore those tossing plumes with fleeter pace.
Like notes of wood-birds, and where'er the eye
Threads the long way, plumes wave, and twinkling feet
Fall light, as hastes that crowd of beauty by;
The ostrich, hurrying o'er the desert space,
Scarce bore those tossing plumes with fleeter pace.
No swimming Juno gait, of languor born,
Is theirs, but a light step of freest grace,
Light as Camilla's o'er the unbent corn,—
A step that speaks the spirit of the place,
Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away
To Singsing and the shores of Tappan bay.
Is theirs, but a light step of freest grace,
Light as Camilla's o'er the unbent corn,—
A step that speaks the spirit of the place,
Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away
To Singsing and the shores of Tappan bay.
Ye that dash by in chariots, who will care
For steeds and footmen now? Ye cannot show
Fair face, and dazzling dress, and graceful air,
And last edition of the shape! Ah no;
These sights are for the earth and open sky,
And your loud wheels unheeded rattle by.
For steeds and footmen now? Ye cannot show
105
And last edition of the shape! Ah no;
These sights are for the earth and open sky,
And your loud wheels unheeded rattle by.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |