Come and smell the new-mown lawn,
Fragrant grass, and dew-wet dawn.
Buds unfold,
And leaves grown bold
Spread great shadows on the lawn.
Come and hear the chaffinch trill,
Hear the lark and thrushes thrill!
Come along,
Such a song,
Such a chorus bright and shrill.
Won't you come?
Hear the hum,
Hear the hum of tireless bee.
Come with me,
Wilt not idle for a day?
Wilt not shirk
Thy waste of work?
This is life, this radiant play
Nature keeps for flowering May.
Buds and bees and grass and flower
Make a sweeter, holier hour
Than all drab years of labour dour.
Come away,
Come and play,
Come and glory in the sun,
Come and laugh! Come, everyone.
Flowering May
Is fresh and gay,
Come and greet the golden sun.
Come away,
Come and play,
Come, oh! come out, everyone!
To the Wind
Wind, wind,
Do you whisper eerie sonnets to the moon
As it rises white and sickled? Do you croon
Silver-coloured ditties pale and low
As you rock the cedar branches too and fro?
Do you sing to woo the bat,
Is it that, is it that?
Have you tunes for such a sullen little wraith,
Half dream, swooping high, scarcely seen, chiefly faith?
Would you hold a phantom to your breast
As you murmur gently love-notes from the west?
Wind, wind,
Every tree is but a harp for your desire,
Every leaf a mellow string to swell your choir,
Every grass a cooing reed
At your need, for your need,
Drums and clashing cymbals of the sea
Boom a pæan, hurl a flood of melody.
Wind, wind,
Men have snatched an air or two
Of a fantasy from you
And have prisoned them in books to make them stay,
Scattered fragments that your lips have blown this way.
Small and shy and thin and cramped and grave,
They are caged and tied to paper in a stave.
Do you mind,
Oh Wind?