RISE from the dells were ye first were born, From the tangled beds of the weed and thorn, Rise, for the dews of the morn are bright, And haste away, with your eyes of light. -- Should the green-house patricians, with withering frown On your simple vestments look haughtily down, Shrink not, for His finger your heads hath bow'd Who heeds the lowly, and humbles the proud. -- The tardy spring, and the chilling sky, Hath meted your robes with a miser's eye, And check'd the blush of your blossoms free; With a gentler friend your home shall be; To a kinder ear you may tell your tale Of the zephyr's kiss, and the scented vale: Ye are charm'd! ye are charm'd! and your fragrant sigh Is health to the bosom on which ye die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: A BURNT SHIP by JOHN DONNE SIX O'CLOCK by TRUMBULL STICKNEY THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE ON THE DEATH OF A DAUGHTER by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES: 1 by WILLIAM BASSE DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: THE SLIGHT AND DEGENERATE NATURE OF MAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE DROWNED HIDALGO DREAMS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |