Ode to Spring

Alfred Williams

Now lovely Nature, laughing-eyed,
Puts on her beauty and her pride,
A rosy-radiant beaming bride.
A belt of green with golden studs,
And bursting blossoms, burting buds.
The scented foliage of her hair
Soft, gentle-puffing zephyrs bear.
The honey-sweetness of her mouth,
The full ambrosia of the south,
The gentle blood within her veins,
Enrichened with the richest gains,
Are precious dews, and precious rains.
The rosy-tinted hawthorn white,
The bluebell, ringing with delight,
The daisy lettered on the lea,
The starry-pale anemone,
Deep violets, hidden in their beds,
And richest purples, richest reds.
Enkindled with the stealing heat,
Break into beauty at her feet.
New verdure greens the tufted pines,
New juices stir the pulsing vines,
Her living breath adorns the hill,
Her footstep prints the daffodil.
Azure the wonder of her eyes,
Her smile immortal as the skies,
And when she frowns above the copse
Her liquid soul dissolves in drops.
The wingéd warblers of the wood,
Wanting their passions understood,
Rejoicing in the generous thaw
Of bitter Boreas' freezing flaw,
From morn to eve the woods among
Fill earth, fill heaven with their song.
Now forth appears the cheerful swain
Leading his flocks along the plain,
New life, new being breathes around,
And sense is thrall to sight and sound.
Pleased with the garment Beauty wears,
The rosy-sylvan nymph appears,
And naked Graces, nightly seen
Sporting on the tufted green.
Immortal Hebe leads the dance,
And round the merry ring they prance.
With choral pomp and mirth the hours employ,
And crown the victors with a wreath of joy.

Main Location:

Wiltshire, UK