Spring.
Here, where the tall plantation firsSlope to the river, down the hill,Strange impulses—like vernal stirs—Have made me wander at their will.I see, with half-attentive eyes,The buds and flowers that mark the Spring,And Nature’s myriad propheciesOf what the Summer suns will bring.For every sense I find delight—The new-wed cushat’s murmurous tones,Young blossoms bursting into light,And the rich odour of the cones.The larch, with tassels purple-pink,Whispers like distant falling brooks;And sun-forgotten dewdrops winkAmid the grass, in shady nooks.The breeze, that hangs round every bush,Steals sweetness from the tender shoots,With, here and there, a perfumed gushFrom violets among the roots.See—where behind the ivied rockGrow drifts of white anemonies,As if the Spring—in Winter’s mock—Were mimicking his snows with these.The single bloom yon furzes bearGleams like the fiery planet Mars:—The creamy primroses appearIn galaxies of vernal stars;—And, grouped in Pleiad clusters round,Lent-lilies blow—some six or seven;—With blossom-constellations crown’d,This quiet nook resembles Heaven.Thomas Hood.
Here, where the tall plantation firsSlope to the river, down the hill,Strange impulses—like vernal stirs—Have made me wander at their will.I see, with half-attentive eyes,The buds and flowers that mark the Spring,And Nature’s myriad propheciesOf what the Summer suns will bring.For every sense I find delight—The new-wed cushat’s murmurous tones,Young blossoms bursting into light,And the rich odour of the cones.The larch, with tassels purple-pink,Whispers like distant falling brooks;And sun-forgotten dewdrops winkAmid the grass, in shady nooks.The breeze, that hangs round every bush,Steals sweetness from the tender shoots,With, here and there, a perfumed gushFrom violets among the roots.See—where behind the ivied rockGrow drifts of white anemonies,As if the Spring—in Winter’s mock—Were mimicking his snows with these.The single bloom yon furzes bearGleams like the fiery planet Mars:—The creamy primroses appearIn galaxies of vernal stars;—And, grouped in Pleiad clusters round,Lent-lilies blow—some six or seven;—With blossom-constellations crown’d,This quiet nook resembles Heaven.Thomas Hood.
Here, where the tall plantation firsSlope to the river, down the hill,Strange impulses—like vernal stirs—Have made me wander at their will.
Here, where the tall plantation firs
Slope to the river, down the hill,
Strange impulses—like vernal stirs—
Have made me wander at their will.
I see, with half-attentive eyes,The buds and flowers that mark the Spring,And Nature’s myriad propheciesOf what the Summer suns will bring.
I see, with half-attentive eyes,
The buds and flowers that mark the Spring,
And Nature’s myriad prophecies
Of what the Summer suns will bring.
For every sense I find delight—The new-wed cushat’s murmurous tones,Young blossoms bursting into light,And the rich odour of the cones.
For every sense I find delight—
The new-wed cushat’s murmurous tones,
Young blossoms bursting into light,
And the rich odour of the cones.
The larch, with tassels purple-pink,Whispers like distant falling brooks;And sun-forgotten dewdrops winkAmid the grass, in shady nooks.
The larch, with tassels purple-pink,
Whispers like distant falling brooks;
And sun-forgotten dewdrops wink
Amid the grass, in shady nooks.
The breeze, that hangs round every bush,Steals sweetness from the tender shoots,With, here and there, a perfumed gushFrom violets among the roots.
The breeze, that hangs round every bush,
Steals sweetness from the tender shoots,
With, here and there, a perfumed gush
From violets among the roots.
See—where behind the ivied rockGrow drifts of white anemonies,As if the Spring—in Winter’s mock—Were mimicking his snows with these.
See—where behind the ivied rock
Grow drifts of white anemonies,
As if the Spring—in Winter’s mock—
Were mimicking his snows with these.
The single bloom yon furzes bearGleams like the fiery planet Mars:—The creamy primroses appearIn galaxies of vernal stars;—
The single bloom yon furzes bear
Gleams like the fiery planet Mars:—
The creamy primroses appear
In galaxies of vernal stars;—
And, grouped in Pleiad clusters round,Lent-lilies blow—some six or seven;—With blossom-constellations crown’d,This quiet nook resembles Heaven.
And, grouped in Pleiad clusters round,
Lent-lilies blow—some six or seven;—
With blossom-constellations crown’d,
This quiet nook resembles Heaven.
Thomas Hood.
Thomas Hood.