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With mantling woodbine every hedge is crown'd;
In airy grace the sweet liburnums bend;
And o'er the lawns and grassy meads around,
The April showers in genial balm descend.
Etherial spring! I love thy gentle air;
I love thy garlands breathing soft perfume,
Entwin'd with azure bells and lilies fair,
And early roses in luxuriant bloom.
Again I rove the woodland and the glade,
Again the linnet's mellow note I hear;
With artless pleasure wandering in the shade,
To cull the treasures of the infant year.
HARVEST HYMN.
Now Autumn strews on every plain
His mellow fruits and fertile grain;
And laughing Plenty crown'd with sheaves,
With purple grapes, and spreading leaves,
In rich profusion pours around,
Her flowing treasures on the ground.
