Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/77

Rh

Come forth, and let us through our hearts receive The joy of verdure!—see, the honied lime Showers cool green light o'er banks where wild-flowers weave Thick tapestry; and woodbine tendrils climb Up the brown oak from buds of moss and thyme. The rich deep masses of the sycamore Hang heavy with the fulness of their prime, And the white poplar, from its foliage hoar, Scatters forth gleams like moonlight, with each gale That sweeps the boughs:—the chestnut flowers are past, The crowning glories of the hawthorn fail, But arches of sweet eglantine are cast From every hedge:—Oh! never may we lose Dear friend! our fresh delight in simplest nature's hues!