Classic Poem

Shut out from Nature and each natural thing,
Within the city's dusty purlieus buried,
I heard to-day a whisper of the spring
As through the streets I hurried.

A soft low zephyr that had lost its way
Came, rich with balmy odour from far meadows,
And breathed on dingy piles, that all the day
Stand frowning o'er their shadows.

All timidly and sweet it crept along:
A prisoned throstle felt the wafted wonder,
And shrilled a welcome, as if gushing song
Would tear its throat asunder.

And in a moment I was borne away
From the great Babel's mighty din and bustle,
To where through woodland glades the soft winds play,
Making the young leaves rustle.

I saw the daisies gemming all the green;
The hawthorn blossom peeping from the hedges;
The lazy brooklet purling on between
Long lines of sleepy sedges.

The dew-drops glistened in the sun-glints fair;
The blear-eyed cattle browsed in grassy hollows;
The sheep-bells tinkled clear, and all the air
Was jubilant with swallows.

The honeysuckle with the sweetbrier wreathed;
The waving meadows lay in sunny stretches;
The wooing air its wanton love-sigh breathed
Among the early vetches.

And Nature wore so beautiful a dress,
Across her features such a glory floated,
That I stood in a trance of tenderness,
And like a lover gloated!

But momentary was the spell! for soon
The zephyr's gentle breath was all expended,
And up the dreary street the throstle's tune
Grew fainter and then ended;

And died away from me each rapturous sound!
Faded the landscape with its fresh-born beauties!
Leaving me to an uninviting round
Of dull and prosy duties!

Yet all day long in crowded street or mart,
Amid the great town's ceaseless stir and jostle,
I felt the sweet breeze play about my heart
And heard the clear-toned throstle.