And sure to prosper—over-bold
With rifled stores of crocus gold—
When lilacs fresh with morning rain
Tapped laughing at my window pane,
And soft with coming warmth and good
Mild breezes shook the leafy wood:
Then, ere the first delight was spent,
Adown the sunny slope I went,
Until the narrowing path across,
Soft shadows flickered on the moss