Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf/218



the golden air is full of balm and bloom Where the hawthorns line the shelving dyke with flowers. Joyous children born of April's happiest hours, High and low they laugh and lighten, knowing their doom Bright as brief—to bless and cheer they know not whom, Heed not how, but washed and warmed with suns and showers Smile, and bid the sweet soft gradual banks and bowers Thrill with love of sunlit fire or starry gloom.