COME along, Springtime, your apron full of flowers Gathered in the sweetest of your dew-delighted bowers! Come with budded bosom and with singing lips apart— Blossom in the hedgerow, blossom in my heart! Come along, Summer, with heaven in your eyes! Tell me in what hyacinths with frolic pulsing lies The Oread of my worship, that is both a balm and smart— Tell it to the woodbird, tell it to my heart! Come along, Autumn, with deeper breast than Spring's! Teach the honied wood-girl all the joy that giving brings; Carol of the scythe-blade, roll the creaking cart, Lift your moon in cornfields, lift her in my heart! Come along, Winter, with mutterings of ice, Cold to make the lover turn to kiss his darling thrice! Leap from rosy heavens at the evenfall, and start Cleansing all the hedgerow, cleansing all my heart! |