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But I know of a land where there falls no blight-
The summer is coming, on soft winds borne-
Young folk now flock in everywhere
With singing, and shouting, and jolly cheer:
The sweet season that bud and bloome forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale ; The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs,
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale,
ON MAY MORNING.
The buck in brake his winter-coat he flings,
The fishes fleet with new-repaired scale : The adder all her slough away she flings,
The swift swallow pursues the fliès small, The busy bee her honey now she mings.
Winter is worn that was the flower's bale, And thus I see, among those pleasant things, Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.
EARL OF SURREY.
Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger,
Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
CHILDREN IN SPRING.
THE snow has left the cottage-top;
The thatch-moss grows in brighter green; And eaves in quick succession drop,
Where grinning icicles have been,
In tubs set by the cottage-door ;
Plunge in the yard-pond brimming o'er.
The sun peeps through the window-pane,
Which children mark with laughing eye, And in the wet streets steal again,
To tell each other spring is nigh. Then as young Hope the past recalls,
In playing groups they often draw, To build beside the sunny walls
Their spring-time huts of sticks or straw.
And oft in pleasure's dream they hie
Round homesteads by the village side, Scratching the hedge-row mosses by,
Where painted pooty shells abide ;
DAY: A PASTORAL.
Mistaking oft the ivy spray
For leaves that come with budding spring, And wondering, in their search for play,
Why birds delay to build and sing.
The mavis thrush, with wild delight,
Upon the orchard's dripping tree Mutters, to see the day so bright
Fragments of young Hope's poesy; And Dame oft stops her buzzing wheel,
To hear the robin's note once more, Who tootles while he pecks his meal From sweet-brier hips beside the door.
DAY: A PASTORAL.
In the barn the tenant cock,
Close to Partlet perched on high, Briskly crows (the shepherd's clock)!
Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nursed by night, retire :