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ENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Of Spring's unclouded weather,
My last year's friends together.
One have I marked, the happiest guest
In joy of voice and pinion !
While birds, and butterflies, and Aowers,
Art sole in thy employment; :
Thyself thy own enjoyment.
Upon yen tuft of hazel trees,
: Yet seeming still to hover ;
That cover him all over.
While thus before my eyes he gleams, A brother of the leaves he seems; When in a moment forth he teems
His little song in gushes : As if it pleased him to disdain And mock the form which he did feign While he was dancing with the train
Of leaves among the bushes.
TO A SKY-LARK.
Up with me! up with me into the clouds !
For thy song, Lark, is strong;
Lift me, guide me till I find
And to-day my heart is weary ;
Up to thee would I Ay.
In that song of thine :
Joyous as morning,
Thou art laughing and scorning : Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest : And, though little troubled with sloth, Drunken Lark! thou would'st be loth To be such a traveller as I.
Happy, happy liver ! With a soul as strong as a mountain river, Pouring out praise to the Almighty giver,
Joy and jollity be with us both! Hearing thee, or else some other,
As merry a brother, I on the earth will go plodding on, By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done.
TO THE CUCKOO.
I hear thee and rejoice:
Or but a wandering voice ?
While I am lying on the grass,
Thy loud note smites my ear! From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near !
I hear thee babbling to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers; And unto me thou bring'st a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring !
Even yet thou art to me
A voice, a mystery ;
'The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to ; that cry
In bush, and tree, and sky.
To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green ; And thou wert still a hope, a love ;
Still longed for, never seen!
And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
O blessed bird ! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
That is fit home for thee!
TO A NIGHTINGALE.
O Nightingale ! thou surely art