Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. II, No. X., March 1851

ome, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness, come; And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, vail'd in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts With unaffected grace, or walk the plain With innocence and meditation join'd In soft assemblage, listen to my song, Which thy own season paints; when Nature all Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. And see where surly winter passes off Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts: His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale; While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless; so that scarce

The bittern knows his time with bill engulf'd To shake the sounding marsh; or, from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying soul, Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin, Fleecy, and white, o'er all surrounding heaven. Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd, Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives Relenting nature, and his lusty steers Drives from their stalls to where the well-us'd plow Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost. There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. Meanwhile, incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans, removes the obstructing clay, Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. While, through the neighboring fields the sower stalks With measur'd step; and, liberal, throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground: The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene. Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow! Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend!