Scarce the hardy primrose peeps

From the dark dell's entangled steeps;
O'er the fields of waving broom
Slowly shoots the golden bloom;
And, but by fits, the furze-clad dale
Tinctures the transitory gale;

While from the shrubbery's naked maze,
Where the vegetable blaze

Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone,
Every checker'd charm is flown;
Save that the lilac hangs to view
Its bursting gems in clusters blue.
Scant along the ridgy land

The beans their new-born ranks expand;
The fresh-turn'd soil, with tender blades,
Thinly the sprouting barley shades:
Fringing the forest's devious edge,
Half-rob'd appears the hawthorn hedge;
Or to the distant eye displays,
Weakly green its budding sprays.

The swallow, for a moment seen,
Skims in haste the village green;
From the gray moor, on feeble wing,
The screaming plovers idly spring;
The butterfly, gay-painted, soon
Explores awhile the tepid noon,
And fondly trusts its tender dyes
To fickle suns and flattering skies.
Fraught with a transient, frozen shower,
If a cloud should haply lower,
Sailing o'er the landscape dark,
Mute on a sudden is the lark;
But when gleams the sun again
O'er the pearl-besprinkled plain,
And from behind his watery vail,

Looks through the thin descending hail;
She mounts, and, lessening to the sight,
Salutes the blithe return of light;
And high her tuneful track pursues,
'Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues.
Where, in venerable rows,
Widely-waving oaks disclose
The moat of yonder antique hall,

Swarm the rooks with clamorous call;

And to the toils of nature true,

295

Wreath their capacious nests anew.
Musing through the lawny park,
The lonely poet loves to mark
How various greens in faint degrees
Tinge the tall groups of various trees;
While, careless of the changing year,
The pine cerulean, never sere,
Towers distinguish'd from the rest,
And proudly vaunts her winter vest.

Within some whispering osier isle,
Where Glynn's low banks neglected smile,
And each trim meadow still retains
The wintry torrent's oozy stains,
Beneath a willow, long forsook,

The fisher seeks his 'custom'd nook;

And bursting through the crackling sedge,
That crowns the current's cavern'd edge,
He startles from the bordering wood
The bashful wild-duck's early brood.

O'er the broad downs, a novel race,
Frisk the lambs with faltering pace,
And with eager bleatings fill

The foss that skirts the beacon'd hill.

His free-born vigor, yet unbroke,
To lordly man's usurping yoke,
The bounding colt forgets to play,
Basking beneath the noontide ray,
And stretch'd among the daisies pied,
Of a green dingle's sloping side;

While far beneath, where Nature spreads
Her boundless length of level meads,
In loose luxuriance taught to stray,

A thousand tumbling rills inlay
With silver veins the vale, or pass
Redundant through the sparkling grass.

Be your title what it may,
Sweet and lengthening April day,
While with you the soul is free,
Ranging wild o'er hill and lea;

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,

To the inward ear devout,

Touch'd by light with heavenly warning,

Your transporting chords ring out.
Every leaf in every nook,

Every wave in every brook,
Chanting with a solemn voice,
Minds us of our better choice.

Needs no show of mountain hoary,

Winding shore or deepening glen, Where the landscape in its glory,

Teaches truth to wandering men. Give true hearts but earth and sky, And some flowers to bloom and die; Homely scenes and simple views, Lowly thoughts may best infuse.

See the soft green willow springing
Where the waters gently pass,
Every way her free arms flinging

O'er the moss and reedy grass.
Long ere winter blasts are fled,
See her tipp'd with vernal red,
And her kindly flower display'd
Ere her leaf can cast a shade.

Though the rudest hand assail her,
Patiently she droops awhile,

But when showers and breezes hail her,

Wears again her willing smile. Thus I learn Contentment's power From the slighted willow bower,

Ready to give thanks and live,

On the least that Heaven may give.

If, the quiet brooklet leaving,
Up the stormy vale I wind,
Haply half in fancy grieving
For the shades I leave behind,