University of Virginia Library

The dew yet lingers on the grass,
As down the long green lane you pass,
Where, o'er the hawthorn's snowy wreaths,
The woodbine's honied perfume breathes;
And the wild rose's arching spray
Flaunts to the breeze above your way.
What palace proud—what city hall,
Can match these verdant boughs that fall,
Vaulting o'er banks of flowers, that glow
In hues of crimson, gold, and snow?
Where, midst the wild-brier's emerald leaves,
Her gauze-like nest the white-throat weaves.
What sense of joy hath ever stole
From song, or harp, into thy soul,
Like this, from young birds all unseen,
Chirping amongst the foliage green?
Or, new to life, on wings untried,
Fluttering from bushes by your side;
Or gazing at you unconcern'd,
Their foes, their perils yet unlearn'd;
With yellow bills, and plumage fair,
And down that trembles to the air.
The gale has woke, and, like a soul,
Sent life and beauty through the whole.
One living, restless radiance gleams,
From quivering trees, and flowers, and streams.
Mark! how its bright and silvery sheen
Gilds the tall grass, and corn-fields green:
Wave after wave, the gleaming tide
Of light sweeps o'er their surface wide;
And the quick, dancing splendour plays,
As o'er the sea the summer's blaze.