POEMS.
TO APRIL.
Sweet April, I hail thee with purest delight!
Thy breezes, thy sunshine, thy showers;
Thy buds which burst forth on the wondering sight,
Thy leaves and thy gay springing flowers.
Thy breezes, thy sunshine, thy showers;
Thy buds which burst forth on the wondering sight,
Thy leaves and thy gay springing flowers.
At thy joyous approaching all nature revives,
The birds sing on every tree;
The honey bees buzzing come forth from their hives,
And the skylark mounts upward with glee.
The birds sing on every tree;
The honey bees buzzing come forth from their hives,
And the skylark mounts upward with glee.
White daisies appear and enamel the ground;
The blue hyacinth tinges the plain:
Each scene beams with hope, all is shining around,
And the thrush sings his liveliest strain.
The blue hyacinth tinges the plain:
Each scene beams with hope, all is shining around,
And the thrush sings his liveliest strain.
Then hail to thee season of gay smiling loves;
May thy days no calamities bring:—
But all England's children rejoice with her groves,
And cheerfully welcome her spring.
May thy days no calamities bring:—
But all England's children rejoice with her groves,
And cheerfully welcome her spring.
