The artist and the loom unseen, In textures soft as crepe de chine Spring weaves her royal robe of green, With grasses fringed and daisies dotted, With furzy tufts like mosses fine...
Fresh from piano, school, and books, A happy girl with rosy looks Young Plowman wooed and won; despite Her pretty, pouting prejudice, Her deep distaste for rural bliss Or countryfied delight. ...
They are not gone whose lives in beauty so unfolding Have left their own sweet impress everywhere; Like flowers, while we linger in beholding, Diffusing fragrance on the summer air. ...
Oh bud and leaf and blossom, How beautiful they are! Than last year's vernal season 'Tis lovelier by far; This earth was never so enchanting Nor half so bright before -...
'Twas not rare versatility, Nor gift of poesy or art, Nor piquant, sparkling jeux d'esprit Which at the call of fancy come, That touched the universal heart, And won the world's encomium. ...