Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/185
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THE FIRST OF MARCH.
167
The mountain streamlet,—the bright-blossomed hedge,—
Woods bathed in sunlight streams,—
The evening star, that on the purple edge
Of yonder soft cloud beams;—
Woods bathed in sunlight streams,—
The evening star, that on the purple edge
Of yonder soft cloud beams;—
The meadow green,—the shrubby valley cool,—
The hill with verdure clad,—
The alder-shadowed brook,—the lilied pool,—
All, all are fair and glad.
The hill with verdure clad,—
The alder-shadowed brook,—the lilied pool,—
All, all are fair and glad.
Oh! how encircleth everlasting Love
Creation with its band,
The glowworm's light,—yon fiery orbs above,—
Are kindled by one hand.
Creation with its band,
The glowworm's light,—yon fiery orbs above,—
Are kindled by one hand.
At Thy command, Almighty! from its place
Drops the frail leaflet here:
At Thy command, through realms of boundless space
Is hurled the falling sphere.
Drops the frail leaflet here:
At Thy command, through realms of boundless space
Is hurled the falling sphere.
The First of March.
The bud is in the bough, and the leaf is in the bud,
And earth's beginning now in her veins to feel the blood,
Which, warmed by summer suns in the alembic of the vine,
From her founts will overrun in a ruddy gush of wine.
And earth's beginning now in her veins to feel the blood,
Which, warmed by summer suns in the alembic of the vine,
From her founts will overrun in a ruddy gush of wine.
The perfume and the bloom that shall decorate the flower,
Are quickening in the gloom of their subterranean bower,
And the juices meant to feed trees, vegetables, fruits,
Unerringly proceed to their pre-appointed roots.
Are quickening in the gloom of their subterranean bower,
And the juices meant to feed trees, vegetables, fruits,
Unerringly proceed to their pre-appointed roots.
The summer's in her ark, and this sunny-pinioned day
Is commissioned to remark whether winter holds her sway;
Go back, thou dove of peace, with the myrtle on thy wing;
Say that floods and tempests cease, and the world is ripe for spring.
Is commissioned to remark whether winter holds her sway;
Go back, thou dove of peace, with the myrtle on thy wing;
Say that floods and tempests cease, and the world is ripe for spring.
Thou hast fanned the sleeping earth till her dreams are all of flowers,
And the waters look in mirth from their overhanging bowers;
The forest seems to listen for the rustle of its leaves,
And the very skies to glisten in the hope of summer eves.
And the waters look in mirth from their overhanging bowers;
The forest seems to listen for the rustle of its leaves,
And the very skies to glisten in the hope of summer eves.
The vivifying spell has been felt beneath the wave,
By the dormouse in its cell, and the mole within its cave;
And the summer tribes that creep, or in air expand their wing,
Have started from their sleep at the summons of the spring.
By the dormouse in its cell, and the mole within its cave;
And the summer tribes that creep, or in air expand their wing,
Have started from their sleep at the summons of the spring.