Was out among the blossoms, in his glee
To rouse them from their dreamings. Gracefully
The west-wind waved the weeping willow-tree
That drooped above the rivulet, or crept
Amid the branches of the elm that swept
A low-browed homestead. Ruby columbine,
Sweet honey-suckle, and the Indian vine,
Had veiled the rustic portico, and wild
Swayed o’er the casement, and the sunlight smiled
Through the low entrance. ’Twas a winsome place,