William Wordsworth

To Lady Beaumont

LADY! the songs of Spring were in the grove While I was shaping beds for winter flowers; While I was planting green unfading bowers, And shrubs--to hang upon the warm alcove, And sheltering wall; and still, as Fancy wove The dream, to time and nature's blended powers I gave this paradise for winter hours, A labyrinth, Lady! which your feet shall rove. Yes! when the sun of life more feebly shines, Becoming thoughts, I trust, of solemn gloom Or of high gladness you shall hither bring; And these perennial bowers and murmuring pines Be gracious as the music and the bloom And all the mighty ravishment of spring.

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0