Springtime Poems and Crafts
Springtime Family Fun
O! Spring, array’d in primrose-color’d robe,
Fresh beauties sheds on each enliven’d scene,
With show’rs and sunshine cheers the smiling globe,
And mantles hill and vale in glowing green.
All nature feels her vital heat around,
The pregnant glebe now bursts with foodful grain,
With kindly warmth she opes the frozen ground,
And with new life informs the teeming plain.
She calls the fish from out their ouzy beds,
And animates the deep with genial love,
She bids the herds bound sportive o’er the meads,
And with glad songs awakes the joyous grove,
No more the glaring tiger roams for prey,
All-powerful love subdues his savage soul,
To find his spotted mate he darts away,
While gentler thoughts the thirst of blood controul.
But ah! while all is warmth and soft desire,
While all around Spring’s cheerful spirit own,
You feel not, Amoret, her quickening fire,
To Spring’s kind influence you a foe alone!
Ode to a Lady on the Spring
Fair Child of Sun and Summer! we behold
With eager eyes thy wings bedropp’d with gold;
The purple spots that o’er thy mantle spread,
The sapphire’s lively blue, the ruby’s red,
Ten thousand various blended tints surprise,
Beyond the rainbow’s hues or peacock’s eyes:
Not Judah’s king in eastern pomp array’d,
Whose charms allur’d from far the Sheban maid,
High on his glitt’ring throne, like you could shine
(Nature’s completest miniature divine):
For thee the rose her balmy buds renews,
And silver lillies fill their cups with dews;
Flora for thee the laughing fields perfumes,
For thee Pomona sheds her choicest blooms,
Soft Zephyr wafts thee on his gentlest gales
O’er Hackwood’s sunny hill and verdant vales;
For thee, gay queen of insects! do we rove
From walk to walk, from beauteous grove to grove;
And let the critics know, whose pedant pride
And awkward jests our sprightly sport deride:
That all who honours, fame, or wealth pursue,
Change but the name of things–they hunt for you.
Verses on a Butterfly
Lovers eminent in love
Ever diversities combine;
The vocal chords of the cushat-dove,
The snake’s articulated spine.
Such elective elements
Educate the eye and lip
With one’s refreshing innocence,
The other’s claim to scholarship.
The serpent’s knowledge of the world
Learn, and the dove’s more naÃ¯ve charm;
Whether your ringlets should be curled,
And why he likes his claret warm.
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