THE sun is up, and 't is a morn of May Round old Ravenna's clear-shown towers and bay, A morn, the loveliest which the year has seen, Last of the spring, yet fresh with all its green; For a warm eve, and gentle rains at night, Have left a sparkling welcome for the light, And there's a crystal clearness all about; The leaves are sharp, the distant hills look out; A balmy briskness comes upon the breeze; The smoke goes dancing from the cottage trees; And when you listen, you may hear a coil, Of bubbling springs about the grassy soil: And all the scene, in short -- sky, earth, and sea -- Breathes like a bright-eyed face, that laughs out openly. 'T is Nature, full of spirits, waked and springing: -- The birds to the delicious time are singing, Darting with freaks and snatches up and down, Where the light woods go seaward from the town While happy faces, striking through the green Of leafy roads, at every turn are seen; And the far ships, lifting their sails of white Like joyful hands, come up with scattery light, Come gleaming up, true to the wish'd-for day, And chase the whistling brine, and swirl into the bay. |