FRAGMENT 4.

‘ Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings

From slumber, as a sphered angel's child,

Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings,

Stands up before its mother bright and mild,

Of whose soft voice the air expectant seems —

So stood before the sun, which shone and smiled

To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams,

The fresh and radiant Earth. The hoary grove

Waxed green — and flowers burst forth like starry beams;—

The grass in the warm sun did start and move,

And sea-buds burst under the waves serene:—

How many a one, though none be near to love,

Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen

In any mirror — or the spring's young minions,

The winged leaves amid the copses green;—

How many a spirit then puts on the pinions

Of fancy, and outstrips the lagging blast,

And his own steps — and over wide dominions

Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast,

More fleet than storms — the wide world shrinks below,

When winter and despondency are past.