MAY MORNING.
Thou art abroad betimes—the laughing windRuffling thy tresses, and with ardent kissHeightening the rich carnation of thy cheek,And thy lip’s roseate grain!Away! away!To the fresh meadows—there thy neck of snow,And broad intelligent brow, with drops to laveOf clearest May-dew—so no envious stain,Freckle, nor sunburnt spot, shall mar the sheenOf that pure skin, which, exquisitely white,Glows with rich witness of the eloquent blood,That courses, in its thousand channels warm,Beneath the snowy surface.Morn is up,With all her matin worship—song of birds,And breath of spangled flowers! Then tarry notTo cull the earliest benefits of May,Before the sun with scorching touch profaneHave marred their virgin beauties. Life is brief—Too brief to loiter in the chamber’s gloom,When thou mayest greet the glorious morning’s prideIn the bright vale, or on the mountain’s side!
Thou art abroad betimes—the laughing windRuffling thy tresses, and with ardent kissHeightening the rich carnation of thy cheek,And thy lip’s roseate grain!Away! away!To the fresh meadows—there thy neck of snow,And broad intelligent brow, with drops to laveOf clearest May-dew—so no envious stain,Freckle, nor sunburnt spot, shall mar the sheenOf that pure skin, which, exquisitely white,Glows with rich witness of the eloquent blood,That courses, in its thousand channels warm,Beneath the snowy surface.Morn is up,With all her matin worship—song of birds,And breath of spangled flowers! Then tarry notTo cull the earliest benefits of May,Before the sun with scorching touch profaneHave marred their virgin beauties. Life is brief—Too brief to loiter in the chamber’s gloom,When thou mayest greet the glorious morning’s prideIn the bright vale, or on the mountain’s side!
Thou art abroad betimes—the laughing windRuffling thy tresses, and with ardent kissHeightening the rich carnation of thy cheek,And thy lip’s roseate grain!Away! away!To the fresh meadows—there thy neck of snow,And broad intelligent brow, with drops to laveOf clearest May-dew—so no envious stain,Freckle, nor sunburnt spot, shall mar the sheenOf that pure skin, which, exquisitely white,Glows with rich witness of the eloquent blood,That courses, in its thousand channels warm,Beneath the snowy surface.Morn is up,With all her matin worship—song of birds,And breath of spangled flowers! Then tarry notTo cull the earliest benefits of May,Before the sun with scorching touch profaneHave marred their virgin beauties. Life is brief—Too brief to loiter in the chamber’s gloom,When thou mayest greet the glorious morning’s prideIn the bright vale, or on the mountain’s side!
Thou art abroad betimes—the laughing wind
Ruffling thy tresses, and with ardent kiss
Heightening the rich carnation of thy cheek,
And thy lip’s roseate grain!
Away! away!
To the fresh meadows—there thy neck of snow,
And broad intelligent brow, with drops to lave
Of clearest May-dew—so no envious stain,
Freckle, nor sunburnt spot, shall mar the sheen
Of that pure skin, which, exquisitely white,
Glows with rich witness of the eloquent blood,
That courses, in its thousand channels warm,
Beneath the snowy surface.
Morn is up,
With all her matin worship—song of birds,
And breath of spangled flowers! Then tarry not
To cull the earliest benefits of May,
Before the sun with scorching touch profane
Have marred their virgin beauties. Life is brief—
Too brief to loiter in the chamber’s gloom,
When thou mayest greet the glorious morning’s pride
In the bright vale, or on the mountain’s side!