ON
THE
SPRING
.
NOW
winter
,
reluctant
,
the
sway
Resigns
to
the
genial
spring
;
Sol
sheds
an
enlivening
ray
,
And
warblers
delightfully
sing
.
Fresh
verdure
adorns
the
gay
plains
,
So
lately
o'er-mantl'd
with
snow
;
The
rivers
,
releas'd
from
their
chains
,
Do
now
with
soft
murmuring
flow
.
The
lark
and
the
linnet
unite
,
The
Cuckow
too
joins
in
the
lay
;
All
nature's
profuse
of
delight
,
And
soft
fanning
zephyrs
now
play
.
How
charming
the
garden
appears
?
Sweet
primroses
paint
the
gay
vale
:
Its
head
now
the
daffodil
rears
,
The
sweetest
of
seasons
to
hail
,
His
team
now
the
hind
drives
along
;
Quite
cheerful
he
ploughs
the
rude
plain
.
He
hums
his
love's
praise
in
a
song
,
Or
whistling
forgets
her
disdain
.
The
seed
in
the
furrow
he
throws
,
Indulg'd
by
bright
Phoebus's
rays
;
Rich
Ceres
vast
increase
bestows
,
When
Autumn
her
bounty
displays
.
The
lambkins
now
sport
on
the
mead
;
They
skip
round
the
heath-cover'd
hill
;
Their
dams
how
securely
they
feed
By
the
side
of
yon
murm'ring
rill
?
Near
Damon
appears
with
his
lute
,
And
wakes
the
melodious
lay
;
The
songsters
,
attentive
and
mute
,
Are
perch'd
on
the
wav'ring
spray
.
As
Phillis
traverses
the
grove
,
All
nature
more
charming
appears
:
Leander's
soft
stories
of
love
,
Still
touchingly
found
in
her
ears
.
They
hand
in
hand
trip
o'er
the
plain
;
No
couple
more
cheerful
and
gay
:
She
counts
him
the
lovelier
swain
;
He
calls
her
the
Queen
of
the
May
.
Of
each
others
hearts
they
are
sure
;
The
arts
of
no
rival
they
dread
.
From
minds
so
unsulli'd
and
pure
,
No
treachery
e'er
can
proceed
.
Few
princes
partake
of
such
joys
,
Remov'd
from
all
faction
and
strife
:
Sure
riches
and
honours
are
toys
,
But
their's
the
endearments
of
life
.