88

LESSONS OF SPRING.

SPRING.

WHAN that Phebus his chair of gold so hie
Had whirled up the sterry sky aloft,

And in the Boole was entered certainly,

When shoures sweet of raine descended soft,
Causing the ground fele times and oft,

Up for to give many an wholsome aire,
And every plaine was clothed faire

With new greene, and maketh small floures

To springen here and there in field and in mede,

So very good and wholsome be the shoures,
That it renueth that was old and dede,

In winter time; and out of every sede

Springeth the hearbe, so that every wight
Of this season wexeth glad and light.

CHAUCER

LESSONS OF SPRING.

"They shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the watercourses."

LESSONS Sweet of spring returning,

Welcome to the thoughtful heart!

ISAIAH 44: 4.

LESSONS OF SPRING.

May I call ye sense or learning,

Instinct pure, or heaven-taught art? Be your title what it may,

Sweet the lengthening April day,

While with you the soul is free,

Ranging wild o'er hill and lea.

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning,
To the inward ear devout,

Touched by light, with heavenly warning

Your transporting chords ring out.

Every leaf in every nook,

Every wave in every brook,

Chanting with a solemn voice,

Minds us of our better choice.

Needs no show of mountain hoary,
Winding shore or deepening glen,
Where the landscape in its glory

Teaches truth to wandering men:

Give true hearts but earth and sky,
And some flowers to bloom and die,-
Homely scenes and simple views

Lowly thoughts may best infuse.

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89

90

LESSONS OF SPRING.

See the soft green willow springing
Where the waters gently pass,
Every way her free arms flinging
O'er the moist and reedy grass.

Long ere winter blasts are fled,
See her tipped with vernal red,
And her kindly flower displayed
Ere her leaf can cast a shade.

Though the rudest hand assail her,
Patiently she droops awhile,

But when showers and breezes hail her,
Wears again her willing smile.
Thus I learn Contentment's power

From the slighted willow bower,
Ready to give thanks and live
On the least that Heaven may give.

If, the quiet brooklet leaving,
Up the stony vale I wind,

Haply half in fancy grieving

For the shades I leave behind,

By the dusty wayside drear,
Nightingales with joyous cheer

FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON.

91

Sing, my sadness to reprove,

Gladlier than in cultured grove.

Where the thickest boughs are twining

Of the greenest, darkest tree,

There they plunge, the light declining—
All may hear, but none may see.

Fearless of the passing hoof,

Hardly will they fleet aloof;

So they live in modest ways,

Trust entire, and ceaseless praise.

KEBLE.

FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON.

FLOW gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds, in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

92

FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTO N.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,

Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills ; There daily I wander as noon rises high,

My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below:
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,

As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear

wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

BURNS