Summer An Invocation to Sleep; Fairy Revels; and Songs and Sonnets. By Cornelius Webb |
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SONNET.
SPRING. |
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44
SONNET. SPRING.
Flower-shedding Spring, with a good servant's haste,Is hurrying about, to make the many ways
That Summer will pass through, now wild and waste,
Pleasant as high-roads on blythe holidays;
The Bees, impatient of their honey toil,
Hover and hum about the unbudded flowers;
(O right-industrious they who whilst they moil
Rejoice, which Idlesse does not in his weedy bower!)
Millions of golden flowers yellow the hills,
That look and shine like gathered heaps of gold;
And birds, and buds, and leaves—river and rills—
Valley and heath, and all things I behold,
Breathe out their voices with a soft, sweet might,
Instructing my dumb heart in their unfeigned delight.
1816.
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