TO LADY BEAUMONT

Lady! the songs of Spring were in the grove

While I was shaping beds forwinter 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.