  Again with pleasant green Has Spring renewed the wood, And where the bare trunks stood Are leafy arbours seen; And back on budding boughs Come birds, to court and pair, Whose rival amorous vows Amaze the scented air. The streams unbound anew Refill their mossy banks, The forward season pranks With flowers of varied hue: And scattered down the meads From hour to hour unfold A thousand buds and beads In stars and cups of gold. The farms are all astir, And every labourer Has doffed his winter coat; And how with specks of white They dot the brown hillside, Or jaunt and sing outright As by their teams they stride. They sing to feel the Sun Regain his wanton strength; To know the year at length Rewards their labour done; To see the rootless stake They set bare in the ground, Burst into leaf, and shake Its grateful scent around. Ah now an evil lot Is his who toils for gain, Where crowded chimneys stain The heavens his choice forgot; ’Tis on the blighted trees That deck his garden dim, And in the tainted breeze That sweet spring comes to him. The grace of brutes that bask, Than in an eager task, My inborn honour lose: Would rather far enjoy The body, than invent A duty, to destroy The ease which nature sent; And country life I praise And lead, because I find The philosophic mind Can take no middle ways; She will not leave her love To mix with men, her art Is all to strive above The crowd, or stand apart. Thrice happy he, the rare Prometheus, who can play With hidden things, and lay New realms of nature bare: Whose venturous step has trod Hell underfoot, and won A crown from man and God For all that he has done.— Since crabbÈd fate did flood My heart with sluggish blood, I look not mine to call; But, like a truant freed, Fly to the woods, and claim A pleasure for the deed Of my inglorious name. And am content, denied The best, in choosing right; For Nature can delight Fancies unoccupied With ecstasies so sweet As none can even guess, Who walk not with the feet Of joy in idleness. Then leave your joyless ways, My friend, my joys to see. The day you come shall be The choice of chosen days: You shall be lost, and learn New being, and forget The world, till your return |
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