Spring's dewy hand on this fair summit weaves The downy grass with tufts of Alpine flowers: And shades the beechen slopes with tender leaves, And leads the shepherd to his upland bowers, Strewn with wild thyme; while slow-descending showers Feed the green ear, and nurse the future sheaves! -- Ah! blest the hind -- whom no sad thought bereaves Of the gay season's pleasures! -- All his hours To wholesome labour given, or thoughtless mirth; No pangs of sorrow past, or coming dread, Bend his unconscious spirit down to earth, Or chase calm slumbers from his careless head! Ah! what to me can those dear days restore, When scenes could charm that now I taste no more! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH AND AGE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IN HOSPITAL: 10. STAFF NURSE: NEW STYLE by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY A BALLAD OF LIFE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 9. TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |