Janet Little

On the Spring

NOW winter, reluctant, the sway
Resigns to the genial spring;
Sol sheds an enlivening ray,
And warblers delightfully sing.
Fresh verdure adorns the gay plains,
So lately o'er-mantl'd with snow;
The rivers, releas'd from their chains,
Do now with soft murmuring flow.
The lark and the linnet unite,
The Cuckow too joins in the lay;
All nature's profuse of delight,
And soft fanning zephyrs now play.
How charming the garden appears?
Sweet primroses paint the gay vale:
Its head now the daffodil rears,
The sweetest of seasons to hail,
His team now the hind drives along;
Quite cheerful he ploughs the rude plain.
He hums his love's praise in a song,
Or whistling forgets her disdain.
The seed in the furrow he throws,
Indulg'd by bright Phoebus's rays;
Rich Ceres vast increase bestows,
When Autumn her bounty displays.
The lambkins now sport on the mead;
They skip round the heath-cover'd hill;
Their dams how securely they feed
By the side of yon murm'ring rill?
Near Damon appears with his lute,
And wakes the melodious lay;
The songsters, attentive and mute,
Are perch'd on the wav'ring spray.
As Phillis traverses the grove,
All nature more charming appears:
Leander's soft stories of love,
Still touchingly found in her ears.
They hand in hand trip o'er the plain;
No couple more cheerful and gay:
She counts him the lovelier swain;
He calls her the Queen of the May.
Of each others hearts they are sure;
The arts of no rival they dread.
From minds so unsulli'd and pure,
No treachery e'er can proceed.
Few princes partake of such joys,
Remov'd from all faction and strife:
Sure riches and honours are toys,
But their's the endearments of life.