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the may morning.
With the first sunshine glancing on their wings,
To thrill the young leaves quivering round their nests
With glad, wild gushes of exulting song,—
To pour swift waves of clear, delicious sound,
Fresh and rejoicing, on the morning air.
To thrill the young leaves quivering round their nests
With glad, wild gushes of exulting song,—
To pour swift waves of clear, delicious sound,
Fresh and rejoicing, on the morning air.
The lake looks up to heaven, and smiles to see
Those vast, high courts with his own color hung;
The waves, with whispers and low laughter, steal
Along the shore, to meet the honeyed kiss
Of the pale lilies, drooping faint with love.
Like some young mountain shepherd, whose fair maid
Far down the vale, upon a gala morn,
Awaits his coming, the impetuous stream
Leaps down the hill-side, singing as it goes.
Those vast, high courts with his own color hung;
The waves, with whispers and low laughter, steal
Along the shore, to meet the honeyed kiss
Of the pale lilies, drooping faint with love.
Like some young mountain shepherd, whose fair maid
Far down the vale, upon a gala morn,
Awaits his coming, the impetuous stream
Leaps down the hill-side, singing as it goes.
Yet, O fair sky! O green and flowery earth!
Your morning gladness in this bright May-time,
With visible glow and music-utterance,
Is all imperfect, faint, and dim, beside
The viewless, voiceless, unimagined joy
That maketh bloom and sunshine in my heart,
That fills my soul with hopes more bright than flowers
And thoughts far sweeter than the voice of birds!
Your morning gladness in this bright May-time,
With visible glow and music-utterance,
Is all imperfect, faint, and dim, beside
The viewless, voiceless, unimagined joy
That maketh bloom and sunshine in my heart,
That fills my soul with hopes more bright than flowers
And thoughts far sweeter than the voice of birds!
