[ SPRING ]
Now the sound in spring's glad hours
Of thronging bees my ear embraces,
That throughout the flowered spaces
Rifle all the fairest flowers.
See how laden now doth stand
Our friendly corn in all the land,
That in spite of every wind
Fills with joy the peasant's mind :
None are from my friendship banned.
And the sun sunk till this hour
From yon verge now goeth forth
And returns towards the north
In this time of sun and shower;
So that I come all aflower
And in power,
Against January's will,
And bereft of senses am
By the Twins and Bull and Ram.
At my bidding every rill
Clears, and cold in springs is pent;
Far and near of thyme the scent
Lavished is across the hill,
And how clear goes forth the moon !
Alas I too soon,
When three flowered months are spent
That are as my dower sent,
Silent must I hence begone.