MAY-DAY DAUGHTER of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring, With sudden passion languishing, Teaching barren moors to smile, Painting pictures mile on mile, Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths, Whence a smokeless incense breathes.' The air is full of whistlings bland; What was that I heard Out of the hazy land? Harp of the wind, or song of bird, Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads, In new landscapes of romance, Where darkling feed the clamorous clans That the marble sleep is broken, When late I walked, in earlier days, All was stiff and stark; Knee-deep snows choked all the ways, Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods, By Fancy, ghastly spells undid. I found no joy: the icy wind In flint and marble beats a heart, I The kind Earth takes her children's part, The fresh ground loves his top and ball, |