Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play
Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride,
Or graz'd in merry clusters by your side?
Bloomfield.
When in the Spring the gay south-west awakes,
And rapid gusts now hide, now clear, the sun,
And through the lawns and flowery thickets run
(Tossed out of shadow into splendour brief)
The silver shivers of the under-leaf.