SONG OF SPRING. Freely shouted to the woods, till all the echoes ring. Send the children up To the high hill's top, Or deep into the wood's recesses, To woo Spring's caresses. See the birds together, In this splendid weather, 15 Worship God-(for he is God of birds as well as men): And each feathered neighbor Enters on his labor Sparrow, robin, redpole, finch, the linnet, and the wren; As the year advances, Trees their naked branches Clothe, and seek your pleasure in their green apparel. Insect and wild beast Keep no Lent, but feast; Spring breathes upon the earth, and their joy's increased, And the rejoicing birds break forth in one loud carol. Ah, come and woo the Spring; List to the birds that sing; Pluck the primroses; pluck the violets; Pluck the daisies, Sing their praises; Friendship with the flowers some noble thought begets. Come forth and gather these sweet elves (More witching are they than the fays of old), Come forth and gather them yourselves; Learn of these gentle flowers, whose worth is more, than gold. Come, come into the wood; Of these gentle flowers, Which not in solitude Dwell, but with each other keep society: Are ready to be woven into garlands for the good. Or, upon summer earth, To die, in virgin worth; Or to be strewn before the bride, Come forth on Sundays; Come forth on Mondays; Come forth on any day; Children, come forth to play : Worship the God of Nature in your childhood; Worship Him at your tasks with best endeavor; Worship Him in your sports; worship Him over; Worship Him in the wildwood; Worship Him midst the flowers; In the greenwood bowers; Pluck the buttercups, and raise Edward Youl. SONG. WHEN daisies pied, and violets blue, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, TO DAFFODILS. Do paint the meadows with delight, Mocks married men, for thus sings he: Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, Mocks married men, for thus sings he: Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! 17 William Shakspeare. TO DAFFODILS. FAIR daffodils! we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon : Until the hastening day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay as you; 2 As quick a growth to meet decay, As your hours do; and dry Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew, Robert Herrick. TO BLOSSOMS. FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile What! were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night? But you are lovely leaves, where we Into the grave. Robert Herrick. TO PRIMROSES. TO PRIMROSES, FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. WHY do ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears Alas! Speak grief in you, Who were but born Just as the modest morn ye have not known that shower Nor felt th' unkind Breath of a blasting wind; Or warped, as we, Who think it strange to sce Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known Ye droop and weep. Is it for want of sleep, Or childish lullaby? Or, that ye have not seen as yet 19 "That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.' Robert Herrick. |