The Thrush.
OONE Candlemas, a gentle day of Spring,I was abroad betimes while the red sunRose large and stately with a purpled ringOf mist about him, and a mantle dun.Thro’ naked boughs he ominously glared,Till, soul-constrained, in sudden awe I stood,And with a Persian’s adoration stared.When lo! from a round beech-tree in the wood,The only tree to which the brown leaves clung,A mavis warbled forth his mellow lay;And ever as his ditty clear he sungThe passion swelled his breast of downy grey.Dear bird! since then thy melody I knowThe boldest in intent, the fullest in its flow.
OONE Candlemas, a gentle day of Spring,I was abroad betimes while the red sunRose large and stately with a purpled ringOf mist about him, and a mantle dun.Thro’ naked boughs he ominously glared,Till, soul-constrained, in sudden awe I stood,And with a Persian’s adoration stared.When lo! from a round beech-tree in the wood,The only tree to which the brown leaves clung,A mavis warbled forth his mellow lay;And ever as his ditty clear he sungThe passion swelled his breast of downy grey.Dear bird! since then thy melody I knowThe boldest in intent, the fullest in its flow.
OONE Candlemas, a gentle day of Spring,I was abroad betimes while the red sunRose large and stately with a purpled ringOf mist about him, and a mantle dun.Thro’ naked boughs he ominously glared,Till, soul-constrained, in sudden awe I stood,And with a Persian’s adoration stared.When lo! from a round beech-tree in the wood,The only tree to which the brown leaves clung,A mavis warbled forth his mellow lay;And ever as his ditty clear he sungThe passion swelled his breast of downy grey.Dear bird! since then thy melody I knowThe boldest in intent, the fullest in its flow.
O