« AnteriorContinuar »
And waters free as winds shall flow.
As we thaw frozen flesh with snow, So Spring will not her time forerun, Mix polar night with tropic glow, Nor cloy us with unshaded sun, Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance, But she has the temperance Of the gods, whereof she is one,Masks her treasury of heat Under the east-winds crossed with sleet. Plants and birds and humble creatures Well accept her rule austere; Titan-born, to hardy natures Cold is genial and dear. As Southern wrath to Northern right Is but straw to anthracite; As in the day of sacrifice, When heroes piled the pyre, The dismal Massachusetts ice Burned more than others' fire, So Spring guards with surface cold The garnered heat of ages old. Hers to sow the seed of bread, That man and all the kinds be fed ; And, when the sunlight fills the hours, Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers, Beneath the calm, within the light, A hid unruly appetite Of swifter life, a surer hope, Strains every sense to larger scope, Impatient to anticipate The halting steps of aged Fate. Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl : When Nature falters, fain would zeal Grasp the felloes of her wheel, And grasping give the orbs another whirl. Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball ! And sun this frozen side, Bring hither back the robin's call, Bring back the tulip's pride.
Why chidest thou the tardy Spring ?
The world rolls round,-mistrust it not,Befalls again what once befell; All things return, both sphere and mote, And I shall hear my bluebird's note, And dream the dream of Auburn-dell.
April cold with dropping rain
What fiery force the earth renews,
Hither rolls the storm of heat;
Where shall we keep the holiday, And duly greet the entering May? Too straight and low our cottage doors, And all unmeet our carpet floors; Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall, Suffice to hold the festival. Up and away! where haughty woods Front the liberated floods : We will climb the broad-backed hills, Hear the uproar of their joy;
We will mark the leaps and gleams
As poured the flood of the ancient sea Spilling over mountain-chains, Bending forests as bends the sedge, Faster flowing o'er the plains, A world-wide wave with a foaming edge That rims the running silver sheet,So pours the deluge of the heat Broad northward o'er the land, Painting artless paradises, Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, Fanning secret fires which glow In columbine and clover-blow. Climbing the northern zones, Where a thousand pallid towns Lie like cockles by the main, Or tented armies on a plain. The million-handed sculptor moulds Quaintest bud and blossom folds, The million-handed painter pours Opal hues and purple dye; Azaleas flush the island floors, And the tints of heaven reply.
Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring To-day shall all her dowry bring, The love of kind, the joy, the grace, Hymen of element and race,
Knowing well to celebrate
Spring is strong and virtuous,
Drug the cup, thou butler sweet, And send the nectar round; The feet that slid so long on sleet Are glad to feel the ground. Fill and saturate each kind With good according to its mind, Fill each kind and saturate With good agreeing with its fate, And soft perfection of its planWillow and violet, maiden and man.
The bitter-sweet, the haunting air Creepeth, bloweth everywhere; It preys on all, all prey on it, Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit, Stings the strong with enterprise, Makes travellers long for Indian skies, And where it comes this courier fleet Fans in all hearts expectance sweet, As if to-morrow should redeem The vanished rose of evening's dream. By houses lies a fresher green, On men and maids a ruddier mien, As if Time brought a new relay Of shining virgins every May, And Summer came to ripen maids To a beauty that not fades.