Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1835.pdf/12

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a valley sweet with singing From the hill and from the wood, Where the green moss rills were springing, A wondrous maiden stood.

The first lark seemed to carry Her coming through the air; Not long she wont to tarry, Though she wandered none knew where.

A rosy light fell o'er her, Too beautiful to last; All hearts rejoiced before her, And gladdened as she past.

She brought strange fruit and flowers, Within her sunny hand, That knew the shine and showers Of some more glorious land.

The winter ice was broken, The waters flashed with gold; She brought to each a token, The young man and the old.

Each seemed a welcome comer, Her gifts made all rejoice; But two, the nearest summer, These had the fairest choice.

Now I, of all that gather In the zodiac's golden zone, Love a month whose sullen weather Has no love but my own.

Though its fierce wild winds are sweeping The last leaf from the thorn; Though the rose in earth be sleeping, Yet then my love was born.