SEASONS

From "In Memoriam"

Dip down upon the northern shore,
O sweet new-year, delaying long:
Thou doest expectant Nature wrong;
Delaying long, delay no more.

What stays thee from the clouded noons,
Thy sweetness from its proper place?
Can trouble live with April days,
Or sadness in the summer moons?

Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire,
The little speedwell's darling blue,
Deep tulips dashed with fiery dew,
Laburnums dropping wells of fire.

O thou, new-year, delaying long,
Delayed the sorrow in my blood,
That longs to burst a frozen bud,
And flood a fresher throat with song.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now fades the last long streak of snow;
Now bourgeons every maze of quick
About the flowering squares, and thick
By ashen roots the violets blow.

Now rings the woodland loud and long,
The distance takes a lovelier hue,
And drowned in yonder living blue
The lark becomes a sightless song.

Now dance the lights on lan and lea,
The flocks are whiter down this vale,
And milkier every milky sail
On winding stream or distant sea;

When now the seamew pipes, or dives
In yonder greening gleam, and fly
The happy birds, that change their sky
To build and brood, that live their lives.