| Nothing is so beautiful as Spring— |
| When weeds, in wheels,
shoot long and lovely and lush ; |
| Thrush's eggs look little
low heavens, and thrush |
| Through the echoing timber does so
rinse and wring |
| The ear, it strikes like lightnings to
hear him sing ; |
| The glassy peartree leaves
and blooms, they brush |
| The descending blue ; that
blue is all in a rush |
With richness ; the racing lambs too
have fair their fling.
|
| What is all this juice and all this joy
? |
| A strain of the earth's
sweet being in the beginning |
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it
cloy,
|
| Before it cloud, Christ,
lord, and sour with sinning, |
| Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and
boy, |
Most, O maid's child, thy
choice and worthy the winning.
|
| |
| |
