Drowsed with a draught of Beauty seemed the land,
As it had raised a golden cup to lip;
But you embodied Spring,
Its harvest hopes, its deeds in joyance planned,
Its brave adventuring.
III
I can recall your buoyance,—can recall
The star-sown hours beneath the Cambridge trees,
When o’er us wheeled the bright processional
Of bold Orion and the Pleiades,