On reading the oriental aphorism, "by patience and labour the mulberry-leaf becomes satin" Hither, in half blown garlands drest, Advances the reluctant Spring, And shrinking, feels her tender breast Chill'd by Winter's snowy wing; Nor wilt thou, alien as thou art, display Or leaf, or swelling bud, to meet the varying day. Yet, when the mother of the rose, Bright June, leads on the glowing hours, And from her hands luxuriant throws Her lovely groups of Summer flowers; Forth from thy brown and unclad branches shoot Serrated leaves and rudiments of fruit. And soon those boughs umbrageous spread A shelter from Autumnal rays, While gay beneath thy shadowy head, His gambols happy childhood plays; Eager, with crimson fingers to amass Thy ruby fruit, that strews the turfy grass. But where, festoon'd with purple vines, More freely grows thy graceful form, And skreen'd by towering Appenines, Thy foliage feeds the spinning worm; PATIENCE and INDUSTRY protect thy shade, And see, by future looms, their care repaid. They mark the threads, half viewless wind That form the shining light cocoon, Now tinted as the orange rind, Or paler than the pearly moon; Then at their summons in the task engage, Light active youth, and tremulous old age. The task that bids thy tresses green A thousand varied hues assume, There colour'd like the sky serene, And mocking here the rose's bloom; And now, in lucid volumes lightly roll'd, Where purple clouds are starr'd with mimic gold. But not because thy veined leaves. Do to the grey winged moth supply The nutriment, whence Patience weaves The monarch's velvet canopy; Thro' his high domes, a splendid radiance throws, And binds the jewell'd circlet on his brows; And not, that thus transform'd, thy boughs, Now as a cestus clasp the fair, Now in her changeful vestment flows, And filets now her plaited hair; I praise thee; but that I behold in thee The triumph of unwearied Industry. 'Tis, that laborious millions owe To thee, the source of simple food In Eastern climes; or where the Po Reflects thee from his classic flood; While useless INDOLENCE may blush, to view What PATIENCE, INDUSTRY, and ART, can do. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 1. OFF GIBRALTAR by SARA TEASDALE HER MERRIMENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SPIRITUAL WORSHIP by BERNARD BARTON JESUS - THE CONQUEROR RENOWNED by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX VERITAS by BERNICE BROWN BETTMAN HIDDEN JOYS by SAMUEL LAMAN BLANCHARD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 36. FEAR HAS CAST OUT LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |