 | Poems |  |
87
Spring
O day desired, to plump the hawthorn bud,
To make the lambkin skip, to push the juice
Up through the chestnut bough like lusty blood,
To urge the fields their herbage to produce,
To give the lark or even the twittering linnet
Ambition for the crown of song and mastery to win it!
To make the lambkin skip, to push the juice
Up through the chestnut bough like lusty blood,
To urge the fields their herbage to produce,
To give the lark or even the twittering linnet
Ambition for the crown of song and mastery to win it!
See how the sunbeams leave their blue expanse,
To visit every opening daffodil,
And roguishly among its leaves to dance!
See how the stream, reluctant, to the mill
Coils with slow current! Ere to labour leaping,
In green and grassy arms the water-sprite is sleeping!
To visit every opening daffodil,
And roguishly among its leaves to dance!
See how the stream, reluctant, to the mill
Coils with slow current! Ere to labour leaping,
In green and grassy arms the water-sprite is sleeping!
Now, day by day, the teeming hours unfold
A film of verdure over glebe and glade,
A tardier twilight, and a dawn more bold,
Delicious sun and more delicious shade!
Till lavish Spring, redeeming all her pledges,
Inherit once again her meadows and her hedges.
A film of verdure over glebe and glade,
A tardier twilight, and a dawn more bold,
Delicious sun and more delicious shade!
Till lavish Spring, redeeming all her pledges,
Inherit once again her meadows and her hedges.
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