12 LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. Now let us, as we float along, VI. LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. 1789. I HEARD a thousand blended notes, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts To her fair works did Nature link Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The birds around me hopped and played, 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, 1798. VII. A CHARACTER. I MARVEL how Nature could ever find space For so many strange contrasts in one human face : There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom. There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain; Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease, There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds, There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there, There's virtue, the title it surely may claim, Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name. This picture from nature may seem to depart, heart; 1800. VIII. TO MY SISTER. It is the first mild day of March: The redbreast sings from the tall larch There is a blessing in the air, Which seems a sense of joy to yield And grass in the green field. 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 Our temper from to-day. |