Tells of countless sunny hours, Long days, and solid banks of flowers; Of gulfs of sweetness without bound Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen; But violets and bilberry bells, Maple-sap, and daffodels, Grass with green flag half-mast high, Succory to match the sky, Columbine with horn of honey, Clover, catchfly, adder's tongue, Wiser far than human seer, Seeing only what is fair, Sipping only what is sweet, Thou dost mock at fate and care, Leave the chaff, and take the wheat. When the fierce north-western blast Cools sea and land so far and fast, Thou already slumberest deep; Woe and want thou canst outsleep; Want and woe, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous. BERRYING. 'MAY be true what I had heard, Earth's a howling wilderness, Truculent with fraud and force,' And along the river-side. Caught among the blackberry vines, Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, Pleasant fancies overtook me. I said, 'What influence me preferred, The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem No wisdom to our berries went?' THE SNOW-STORM. ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm. Come see the north wind's masonry. Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he And when his hours are numbered, and the world |