« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
of Spring were in the grove While I was framing beds of winter flowers; While I was planting green unfading bowers, And shrubs to hang upon the warm alcove, And sheltering wall; and still, as fancy wove The dream, to time and nature's blended powers I
gave this paradise for winter hours, A labyrinth Lady! which your feet shall rore. Yes! when the sun of life more feebly shines, Becoming thoughts, I trust, of solemn gloom Or of high gladness you shall hither bring; And these perennial bowers and murmuring pines Be gracious as the music and the bloom And all the mighty ravishment of Spring.
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
It is a beauteous Evening, calm and free;
TO THE MEMORY
Calvert! it must not be unheard by them
ZD OF THE FIRST PART