Page:Poems Blake.djvu/57

Of odorous fields and drowsy noons,
 Of slow tides landward creeping,
Of woodlands thrilled with jocund tunes,
 Of soft airs hushed and sleeping,—

He sang of waving forest heights
 With strong green boughs upspringing;
Of faint stars pale with drowsy lights,
 In dusky heavens swinging;
Of nests high-hung in cottage eaves,
 Of yellow cornfields growing,
And, through the long, slim, fluttering leaves,
 The sleepy winds a-blowing;

He sang until my soul took heed
 Of warm, soft-falling showers,
Of dells high-piled with tangled leaves,
 And gay with tangled flowers;
Of life, and love, and hope's bright crew,
 This brave and blithe new-comer,—
And so—and so—at last I knew
 One swallow made the summer!