Golden Numbers Part 2

_A Fine Day_

Clear had the day been from the dawn, All chequer'd was the sky, Thin clouds like scarfs of cobweb lawn Veil'd heaven's most glorious eye.

The wind had no more strength than this, That leisurely it blew, To make one leaf the next to kiss That closely by it grew.

MICHAEL DRAYTON.

_The Seasons_

So forth issued the seasons of the year; First, l.u.s.ty Spring, all dight in leaves of flowers That freshly budded, and new blooms did bear, In which a thousand birds had built their bowers.

EDMUND SPENSER.

_From "The Faerie Queene."_

_The Eternal Spring_

The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.

JOHN MILTON.

_March_[1]

The stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.

Ah, pa.s.sing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee; Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me.

For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring; And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

Then sing aloud the gushing rills In joy that they again are free, And, brightly leaping down the hills, Renew their journey to the sea.

Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies, And that soft time of sunny showers, When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, Seems of a brighter world than ours.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

[Footnote 1: _By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's Complete Poetical Works._]

_Spring_

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost Her snow-white robes; and now no more the frost Candies the gra.s.s or casts an icy cream Upon the silver lake or crystal stream: But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth, And makes it tender; gives a sacred birth To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree The drowsy cuckoo and the b.u.mble-bee.

Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring In triumph to the world the youthful spring!

The valleys, hills, and woods, in rich array, Welcome the coming of the longed-for May.

THOMAS CAREW.

_Song to April_[2]

April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears!

April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, If I tell thee, sweetest, All my hopes and fears, April, April, Laugh thy golden laughter, But the moment after, Weep thy golden tears!

WILLIAM WATSON.

[Footnote 2: _By courtesy of John Lane._]

_April in England_

Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree hole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England--now!

And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops,--at the bent spray's edge-- That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with h.o.a.ry dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The b.u.t.tercups, the little children's dower, --Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower.

ROBERT BROWNING.

_April and May_

April cold with dropping rain Willows and lilacs brings again, The whistle of returning birds, And trumpet-lowing of the herds; The scarlet maple-keys betray What potent blood hath modest May; What fiery force the earth renews, The wealth of forms, the flush of hues; What Joy in rosy waves outpoured, Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

_From "May-Day."_

_May_

Then came fair May, the fairest maid on ground, Deck'd all with dainties of her season's pride, And throwing flowers out of her lap around: Upon two brethren's shoulders she did ride; The twins of Leda, which on either side Supported her like to their sovereign queen.

Lord! how all creatures laught when her they spied, And leapt and danced as they had ravish'd been.

And Cupid's self about her fluttered all in green.

EDMUND SPENSER.

_Song on May Morning_

Now the bright morning star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.

Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

JOHN MILTON.

_Summer_