Page:Poems Nealds.djvu/116

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90

There Spring puts forth her first-born flow'rs,
The vi'let and the primrose fair,
The blue-bell there her odour pours,
And ev'ry early flow'r is there.

Beneath my favorite tree reclin'd,
I listen to the thrushes' song,
As gently blows the western wind,
The lovely verdant boughs among.

The partridge now retires to rest,
Within the copse's thickest shades;
The ring-doves seek their happy nest,
No noisy hum the calm invades.

Mild Hesper sheds her beams so pale,
To light the lev'ret on her way,