  I. I. White ermine now the mountains wear, To shield their naked shoulders bare. II. The dark pine wears the snow, as head Of Ethiop doth white turban wear. III. The floods are armed with silver shields, Through which the Sun’s sword cannot fare; IV. For he who trod heaven’s middle road In golden arms, on golden chair, V. Now through small corner of the sky Creeps low, nor warms the foggy air. VI. To mutter ’twixt their teeth the streams, In icy fetters, scarcely dare. VII. Hushed is the busy hum of life; ’Tis silence in the earth and air. VIII. From mountains issues the gaunt wolf, And from its forest depths the bear. IX. Where is the garden’s beauty now? The thorn is here; the rose, oh! where? X. The trees, like giant skeletons, Wave high their fleshless arms and bare; XI. Or stand like wrestlers, stripped and bold, And wildest winds to battle dare. XII. It seems a thing impossible That earth its glories should repair; XIII. That ever this bleak world again Should bright and beauteous mantle wear, XIV. Or sounds of life again be heard In this dull earth and vacant air. II. I. Who was it that so lately said, All pulses in thine heart were dead, II. Old Earth, that now in festal robes Appearest, as a bride new wed? III. Oh wrapt so late in winding-sheet, Thy winding-sheet, oh! where is fled? IV. Lo! ’tis an emerald carpet now Where the young monarch, Spring, may tread. V. He comes,—and, a defeated king, Old Winter, to the hills is fled. VI. The warm wind broke his frosty spear, And loosed the helmet from his head; VII. And he weak showers of arrowy sleet For his strongholds has vainly sped. VIII. All that was sleeping is awake, And all is living that was dead. IX. Who listens now, can hear the streams Leap tinkling down their pebbly bed, X. Or see them, from their fetters free, Like silver snakes the meadows thread. XI. The joy, the life, the hope of earth, They slept awhile, they were not dead: XII. Oh thou, who say’st thy sere heart ne’er With verdure can again be spread; XIII. Oh thou, who mournest them that sleep, Low lying in an earthy bed; XIV. Look out on this reviving world, And be new hopes within thee bred. III. I. Now seems all nature to conspire As to dissolve the world in fire, II. Which dies among its odorous sweets, A Phoenix on its funeral pyre. III. Simoom breathes hotly from the waste, The green earth quits its green attire; IV. Floats o’er the plain the liquid heat, Cheating the traveller’s fond desire— V. Illusion fair of lake and stream, Receding as he draweth nigher. VI. Ice is more precious now than gold, Snow more than silver men desire. VII. ’Tis far to seek unfailing wells For tender maid or aged sire; VIII. Men know the worth of water now, And learn to prize God’s blessing higher; IX. The shallow pools have disappeared, Caked into iron is the mire. X. Through clouds of dust the crimson sun Glares on the earth in lurid ire; XI. The parchÈd earth with thirsty lips Is gasping, ready to expire. XII. Oh happy, who by liquid streams In shady gardens can retire, XIII. Where murmuring falls and whispering trees Sweet slumber to invite conspire; XIV. Or where he may deceive the time With volume sage, or pensive lyre. IV. I. Thine, Autumn, is unwelcome lore— To tell the world its pomp is o’er: II. To whisper in the rose’s ear That all her beauty is no more; III. And bid her own the faith how vain, Which Spring to her so lately swore. IV. A queen deposed, she quits her state; The nightingales her fall deplore: V. The hundred-voicÈd bird may woo The thousand-leavÈd flower no more. VI. The jasmine sinks its head in shame, The sharp east wind its tresses shore; VII. And robbed in passing cruelly The tulip of the crown it wore. VIII. The lily’s sword is broken now, That was so bright and keen before; IX. And not a blast can blow, but strews With leaf of gold the earth’s dank floor. X. The piping winds sing Nature’s dirge As through the forest bleak they roar, XI. Whose leafy screen, like locks of eld, Each day shows scantier than before. XII. Thou fadest as a flower, O man! Of food for musing here is store. XIII. O man! thou fallest as a leaf: Pace thoughtfully earth’s leaf-strewn floor; XIV. Welcome the sadness of the time, And lay to heart this natural lore. |
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