Page:Life of William Blake, Pictor ignotus (Volume 2).djvu/29

 TO SPRING.

, with dewy locks, who lookest down Thro' the clear windows of the morning turn Thine angel eyes upon our western isle, Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

The hills do tell each other, and the listening Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned Up to thy bright pavilion: issue forth, And let thy holy feet visit our clime!

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour Thy softest kisses on her bosom, and put Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.