Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/180

 And shepherds from the mountain-eaves Look'd down, half-pleased, half-frightened, As dash'd about the drunken leaves The random sunshine lighten'd!

Oh, nature first was fresh to men, And wanton without measure; So youthful and so flexile then, You moved her at your pleasure. Twang out, my fiddle! shake the twigs! And make her dance attendance; Blow, flute, and stir the stiff-set sprigs, And scirrhous roots and tendons.

'Tis vain! in such a brassy age I could not move a thistle; The very sparrows in the hedge Scarce answer to my whistle; Or at the most, when three-parts-sick With strumming and with scraping, A jackass heehaws from the rick, The passive oxen gaping.