2. These foldings up of daylight speak And voices all around us break Mortal, though around thy path 146. THOUGHTS ON THE SEASONS. Flattered with promise of escape Spring takes, O sprightly May, thy shape, Less fair is Summer, riding high When earth repays with golden sheaves The labours of the plough, And ripening fruits and forest leaves All brighten on the bough: What pensive beauty Autumn shews, Such be our Spring; our Summer such; Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees, [run; And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd; to plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more And still more, later flowers for the bees; Until they think warm days will never cease, For summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells. 2. Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them. Thou hast thy music too, While floating clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; F Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies, 148.-LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. [WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.] 1. I heard a thousand blended notes, 2. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; 3. Through primrose tufts in that green bower 4. The birds around me hopped and played; 5. The budding twigs spread out their fan, And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. 6. If this belief from Heaven be sent, What man has made of man? 149.-WINTER. [JAMES THOMPSON.] The keener tempests rise. Thick clouds ascend, And the sky saddens with the gathering storm. Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends, At first thin wavering, till at last the flakes Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day 'Tis whiteness all, save where the new snow melts Along the mazy streamlet. Low the woods Bow their hoar heads: and ere the languid sun, Against the window beats: then brisk alights And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is: 150. THE POET'S WISH. [WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. From the "Excursion," book ix.] O, for the coming of that glorious time When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth And best protection, this imperial realm, While she exacts allegiance, shall admit An obligation, on her part, to teach Those who are born to serve her and obey; Binding herself by statute to secure For all the children whom her soil maintains |