| |
| COME, my Susan, quit your chamber, | |
| Greet the opening bloom of May, | |
| Let us up yon hillock clamber, | |
| And around the scene survey. | |
| |
| See the sun is now descending, | 5 |
| And projects his shadows far, | |
| And the bee her course is bending | |
| Homeward through the humid air. | |
| |
| Mark the lizard just before us, | |
| Singing her unvaried strain, | 10 |
| While the frog abrupt in chorus, | |
| Deepens through the marshy plain. | |
| |
| From yon grove the woodcock rises, | |
| Mark her progress by her notes, | |
| High in air her wings she poises, | 15 |
| Then like lightning down she shoots. | |
| |
| Now the whip-o-will beginning, | |
| Clamorous on a pointed rail, | |
| Drowns the more melodious singing | |
| Of the catbird, thrush, and quail. | 20 |
| |
| Pensive Echo, from the mountain, | |
| Still repeats the sylvan sounds, | |
| And the crocus-borderd fountain | |
| With the splendid fly abounds. | |
| |
| There the honeysuckle blooming, | 25 |
| Reddens the capricious wave; | |
| Richer sweetsthe air perfuming, | |
| Spicy Ceylon never gave. | |
| |
| Cast your eyes beyond this meadow, | |
| Painted by a hand divine, | 30 |
| And observe the ample shadow | |
| Of that solemn ridge of pine. | |
| |
| Here a trickling rill depending, | |
| Glitters through the artless bower; | |
| And the silver dew descending, | 35 |
| Doubly radiates every flower. | |
| |
| While I speak, the sun is vanishd, | |
| All the gilded clouds are fled, | |
| Music from the groves is banishd, | |
| Noxious vapors round us spread. | 40 |
| |
| Rural toil is now suspended, | |
| Sleep invades the peasants eyes, | |
| Each diurnal task is ended, | |
| While soft Luna climbs the skies. | |
| |
| Queen of rest and meditation, | 45 |
| Through thy medium I adore | |
| Himthe author of creation, | |
| Infinite, and boundless power. | |
| |
| T is he who fills thy urn with glory, | |
| Transcript of immortal light; | 50 |
| Lord! my spirit bows before thee, | |
| Lost in wonder and delight. | |
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