The budding twigs spread out their fan And I must think, do all I can, If this belief from heaven be sent, William Wordsworth. SONG OF SPRING. Send the children up To the high hill's top; Tax not the strength of their young hands Gather the primroses, Make handfuls into posies; Take them to the little girls who are at work in mills: Pluck the violets blue Ah, pluck not a few! Knowest thou what good thoughts from Heaven the violet instils? Give the children holidays (And let these be jolly days), Grant freedom to the children in this joyous spring; Better men, hereafter, Shall we have, for laughter SONG OF SPRING. Freely shouted to the woods, till all the echoes ring. To the high hill's top, Or deep into the wood's recesses, See the birds together, Worship God-(for he is God of birds as well as men): 15 Sparrow, robin, redpole, finch, the linnet, and the wren; As the year advances, Trees their naked branches Clothe, and seek your pleasure in their green apparel. Insect and wild beast Keep no Lent, but feast; Spring breathes upon the earth, and their joy's increased, And the rejoicing birds break forth in one loud carol. Ah, come and woo the Spring; List to the birds that sing; Pluck the primroses; pluck the violets; Pluck the daisies, Sing their praises; Friendship with the flowers some noble thought begets. Come forth and gather these sweet elves (More witching are they than the fays of old), Come forth and gather them yourselves; Learn of these gentle flowers, whose worth is more, than gold. Come, come into the wood; Dwell, but with each other keep society: Are ready to be woven into garlands for the good. Or, upon summer earth, To die, in virgin worth; Or to be strewn before the bride, And the bridegroom, by her side. Come forth on Sundays; Children, come forth to play :- Worship Him amidst the flowers; Edward Youl. SONG. WHEN daisies pied, and violets blue, |