My sister! ('tis a wish of mine) Edward will come with you ;--and, pray, Put on with speed your woodland dress; And bring no book: for this one day We'll give to idleness. No joyless forms shall regulate Our living calendar: We from to-day, my Friend, will date The opening of the year. Love, now a universal birth, From heart to heart is stealing, From earth to man, from man to earth : -It is the hour of feeling. One moment now may give us more Than years of toiling reason: Our minds shall drink at every pore The spirit of the season. Some silent laws our hearts will make, Which they shall long obey: We for the year to come may take And from the blessed power that rolls We'll frame the measure of our souls: Then come, my Sister! come, I pray, XXVIII ODE COMPOSED ON MAY MORNING WHILE from the purpling east departs A quickening hope, a freshening glee, Whose first-drawn breath, from bush and tree, All Nature welcomes Her whose sway Tempers the year's extremes; Like morning's dewy gleams; 1798 While mellow warble, sprightly trill, And hums the balmy air to still The balance of delight. Time was, blest Power! when youths and maids At peep of dawn would rise, And wander forth, in forest glades Thy birth to solemnize. Though mute the song—to grace the rite Untouched the hawthorn bough, Thy Spirit triumphs o'er the slight; Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings Warmed by thy influence, creeping things Awake to silent joy : Queen art thou still for each gay plant Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath, Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath To honour thee, sweet May! A Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares And if, on this thy natal morn, Hath not departed, stands forlorn Of song Still from the village-green a vow Aspires to thee addrest, Wherever peace is on the brow, Or love within the breast. Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach That never loved before. Stript is the haughty one of pride, Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse To yon exulting thrush the Muse Entrusts the imperfect song; His voice shall chant, in accents clear, Throughout the live-long day, Till the first silver star appear, The sovereignty of May. XXIX TO MAY THOUGH many suns have risen and set Delicious odours! music sweet, That, when a thousand years are told, 1826 |