And breath of spangled flowers! Then tarry not
To cull the earliest benefits of May,
Before the sun with scorching touch profane
Have marred their virgin beauties. Life is brief—
Too brief to loiter in the chamber’s gloom,
When thou mayest greet the glorious morning’s pride
In the bright vale, or on the mountain’s side!
MY FIRST BORN.
THE HOUR OF HER BIRTH.
Was’t not a cry of pleasure