 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Warp and Woof
I mark the insects as in mazy danceWith twinkling motion up and down they glide;
While, through the heedless throng, from side to side,
The busy swallows on swift pinions glance.
7
And, true as tilting knights, make havoc wide:
But still the dancing column is supplied
With eager wings undaunted by mischance.
The air is fragrant with white hawthorn-bloom,
As here on Nature's warp and woof I gaze
Of mingled life and death, brightness and gloom;
And when I muse on Earth's perplexing ways,
One thought can sweeten, cheer them, and illume,
That Love's hand weaves the mystery of our days.
| Lyra Pastoralis | |