XIII.

Where is the crocus now, that first When earth was dark and heaven was grey, A prothalamion flash, up-burst? Ah, then we deemed not of the May!

The clear stream stagnates in its course; Narcissus droops in pallid gloom; Far off the hills of golden gorse A dusk Saturnian face assume.

The seeded dandelion dim Casts loose its air-globe on the breeze; Along the grass the swallows skim; The cattle couch among the trees.

Yet ever lordlier loveliness Succeeds to that which slips our hold: The thorn assumes her snowy dress; Laburnum bowers their robes of gold.

Down waves successive of the year We drop; but drop once more to rise, With ampler view, as on we steer, Of lovelier lights and loftier skies.