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62
ODE TO MEMORY.
Pour round mine ears the livelong bleat
Of the thickfleecéd sheep from wattled folds,
Upon the ridgéd wolds,
When the first matinsong hath wakéd loud
Over the dark dewy earth forlorn,
What time the amber morn
Forth gushes from beneath a lowhung cloud.
Of the thickfleecéd sheep from wattled folds,
Upon the ridgéd wolds,
When the first matinsong hath wakéd loud
Over the dark dewy earth forlorn,
What time the amber morn
Forth gushes from beneath a lowhung cloud.
V.
Large dowries doth the raptured eye
To the young spirit present
When first she is wed;
And like a bride of old
In triumph led,
With music and sweet showers
Of festal flowers,
Unto the dwelling she must sway.
Well hast thou done, great artist Memory,
In setting round thy first experiment
With royal framework of wrought gold;
Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay,
Large dowries doth the raptured eye
To the young spirit present
When first she is wed;
And like a bride of old
In triumph led,
With music and sweet showers
Of festal flowers,
Unto the dwelling she must sway.
Well hast thou done, great artist Memory,
In setting round thy first experiment
With royal framework of wrought gold;
Needs must thou dearly love thy first essay,
