22 LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: And makes the happiness she does not find. Johnson. LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, The budding twigs spread out their fan, And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. If this belief from Heaven be sent, Wordsworth. ON THE RHINE. 'Twas morn, and beautiful the mountain's brow- Rocks after rocks come forward and retire, Frown as we pass !-There, on the vineyard's side, The bursting sunshine pours its streaming tide; While grief, forgetful amid scenes so fair, Counts not the hours of a long summer's day, Nor heeds how fast the prospect winds away. Bowles. THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. THEY grew in beauty side by side, One midst the forests of the West, The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, One sleeps where southern vines are drest He wrapt his colours round his breast And, parted thus, they rest-who played They that with smiles lit up the hall, Alas for love, if thou wert all, And nought beyond, O earth! Mrs. Hemans. LINES ON SEEING MY WIFE AND TWO CHILDREN SLEEPING IN THE SAME CHAMBER. AND has the earth lost its so spacious round, Hood. TO A BUTTERFLY. STAY near me do not take thy flight! Much converse do I find in thee, Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art, My father's family! Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when in our childish plays, Together chased the butterfly! Upon the prey-with leaps and springs I follow'd on from brake to bush; Wordsworth. THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN AND SHOWER. THREE years she grew in sun and shower, On earth was never sown; This child I to myself will take, She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse, and with me 26 THREE YEARS SHE GREW IN SUN AND SHOWER. In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, To kindle or restrain. "She shall be sportive as the fawn, And hers shall be the breathing palm, "The floating clouds their state shall lend Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her, and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place; Where rivulets dance their wayward round, "And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height; Her virgin bosom swell. Such thoughts to Lucy I will give, While she and I together live Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake the work was done- She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene, The memory of what has been, And never more will be. Wordsworth. |