« 上一页继续 »
'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.
I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms, Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.
From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and coloured wings Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along The forest openings.
When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.
And, when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
And twinkles many a star.
Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw; And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.
Sweet April-many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.
WITH what a glory comes and goes the year!
There is a beautiful spirit breathing now
The golden robin moves.
Through the trees
The purple finch,
That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds,
O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves, Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings. He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death Has lifted up for all, that he shall go
To his long resting-place without a tear.