LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH. The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun : Are at work with the strongest ; Their heads never raising— Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill. The plough-boy is whooping-anon—anon : There's life in the fountains; Blue sky prevailing ; The rain is over and gone! Wordsworth. THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE. "Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf," "Dost thou presume my course to block? I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock But, seeing no relief, at last, The Waterfall and the Eglantine. "Ah! 225 said the Briar, "blame me not: Why should we dwell in strife? We who in this sequestered spot You stirred me on my rocky bed What pleasure through my veins you spread! The summer long, from day to day, My leaves you freshened and bedewed: Nor was it common gratitude That did your cares repay. "When spring came on with bud and bell, Among the rocks did I, Before you hang my wreaths to tell That gentle days were nigh! And in the sultry summer hours, I sheltered you with leaves and flowers; And in my leaves-now shed and gone— The linnet lodged, and for us two Chanted his pretty songs, when you Had little voice or none. "But now proud thoughts are in your breast,What grief is mine you see, Ah! would you think, even yet how blest Together we might be ! Q "Though of both leaf and flower bereft, Some ornaments to me are left- What more he said I cannot tell, I listened, nor aught else could hear; Wordsworth. THE SANDS OF DEE. "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee !" The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she. The creeping tide came up along the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see; The blinding mist came down and hid the land, And never home came she. Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair? Of drowned maiden's hair Above the nets at sea: Was never salmon got that shone so fair They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The cruel, crawling foam, The cruel, hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea : But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands o' Dee. Kingsley. |