Looks beautiful, as when an infant wakes
From its soft slumbers;
and the same bard poetically reminds us with more than poetical truth, that at this season, when we
See life and bliss around us flowing,
Wherever space or being is,
The cup of joy is full and flowing.
Bowring.
Another, whose numbers are choralled by worshipping crowds, observes with equal truth, and under the influence of high feelings, for seasonable abundance, that
To enjoy is to obey.
Watts.
Grateful and salutary spring the plants
Which crown our numerous gardens, and
Invite to health and temperance, in the simple meal,
Unpoisoned with rich sauces, to provoke
Th’ unwilling appetite to gluttony.
For this, the bulbous esculents their roots
With sweetness fill; for this, with cooling juice
The green herb spreads its leaves; and opening buds,
And flowers and seeds, with various flavours.
Dodsley.
Sweet is thy coming, Spring!—and as I pass
Thy hedge-rows, where from the half-naked spray
Peeps the sweet bud, and ’midst the dewy grass
The tufted primrose opens to the day:
My spirits light and pure confess thy pow’r
Of balmiest influence: there is not a tree
That whispers to the warm noon-breeze; nor flow’r
Whose bell the dew-drop holds, but yields to me
Predestinings of joy: O, heavenly sweet
Illusion!—that the sadly pensive breast
Can for a moment from itself retreat
To outward pleasantness, and be at rest:
While sun, and fields, and air, the sense have wrought
Of pleasure and content, in spite of thought!